Once In A Lifetime
by ReidxMexLikexAxBook
Summary: (References to Season 3, episode "Scared to Death.") Spencer Reid, and his newly found love interest, Alaska Michaels, are taken captive by a serial killer's adopted daughter. The team tries to find them, but their captive has no plans of letting them leave before they "face their fears." Rated M for mature content and adult situations. Reid/OC, rape, torture. Recent Name Change!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. I do, however, own the character Alaska Michaels, she's a figment of my imagination. This story will reference**** Season 3, episode called "Scared to Death" quite a bit later on. **

Everyone spends their Friday night a different way. Whether it's going to the movies, illegal parties, finding a one night stand, or cuddling in bed with the significant other. Usually, going out to a club with the team isn't something Spencer Reid would choose to do on a Friday night. Nothing personal against his co workers; he just isn't one for tight spaces, alcohol, and blaring music that has nonsensical lyrics. But that night, Spencer let Morgan convince him that he could use some fun. He just refuses to spend that particular night alone with a book he's read over twenty times.

"C'mon, Pretty Boy, I'll even hook you up with an equally pretty girl," Derek Morgan had teased.  
The thought was an appealing one, though Spencer knew his friend couldn't keep that bargain. Reid's constant rambling and overly logical thinking keeps the "babes" from batting an eye at him.

With that type of a mindset, you can probably imagine the immense surprise when a girl came up to Spencer, a huge smile lighting up her delicate face. Morgan not only got a girl to talk to him, but she's a beautiful one too. It's the careless kind of beauty- her hair is in ruffled waves and her eyes sparkle with an inner glow that can't be replicated.

"Hi there," she grins.

"H-hi." He coughs. He offers his hand for her to shake, something out of the ordinary for the young genius. Shaking hands spreads bacteria like nothing else, and it's actually quite disgusting. It's just as he's telling himself that her bacteria is most likely the good kind, that she takes the seat across from him at his tiny table. They're in the corner of the room, a type of spot that's perfect for observation, which was the whole purpose of Spencer taking the table. "I'm Spencer, by the way."

"Alaska." She states with a dip of her head. He cocks his head to the side and nods, his brain running a million miles an hour thinking through book characters that may have inspired this creative alias.  
Noticing the man's speculation, Alaska laughs.

"That really is my name," she promises. Of course Reid doesn't believe her, but he keeps that opinion to himself.

"Are you going to buy me a drink or what?" the beauty asks, biting her lip. Spencer mentally scolds himself for blanking out when this girl is obviously waiting for him to make a move.

"Yeah, of course. A drink." Reid gets up and heads towards the bar, only to stop, turn back to her and ask, "w-what can I get you?"

She laughs and slides down off her chair, walking with him. Her hand moves to rest gently on his arm. She's pretty tall, he notices, her head stops at his chin. She's what most would deem as pale, but it's not the awkwardly geeky pale like himself, it's the porcelain kind. The type to scream beauty in every inch of creamy skin.

"Two rum and cokes," Alaska tells the bartender, "but feel free to go generous on the rum."

Spencer is quite relieved that she ordered for them- he knows nothing about different beverages.

"So, Spencer. What do you do for a living?" She asks. The question is so innocent that he feels guilt for the way his eyes subconsciously looked down to observe her tight, black dress. His hands are a bit jittery as he reaches down to hold onto his drink that the bartender slid over.

"I have three doctorates, two degrees, and work for the FBI in the Behavior Analysis Unit. We're profilers who catch criminals. Our success rate has jumped to 92%, which is beyond most people's expectations, considering how it used to be a measly 85."

Alaska picks up her drink and sips, staring at him for a moment. His brain screams at him for revealing so much. She's a stranger, after all. And besides that, he probably just scared her off. Why didn't he just say he was a cop or something?

Alaska sets the alcoholic beverage down and smirks. "Beauty and brains. How did I get so lucky?" Ignoring the flushed tinge that's growing in his cheeks, Spencer asks her the same question.

"I have one doctorate. In engineering, to be exact. I'm currently unemployed, because I just quit my job. In case you're curious, being a profiler and all, it was because my dick of a boss decided to proposition me with some completely inappropriate terms. I don't find fucking my boss very ideal."

"A girl with brains, beauty, and morals. How did I get so lucky?" Reid taunts. He enjoys the laugh she gives. It's a very appeasing sound.

"We're both doctors. How weird is that?"

"Weird, Dr. Alaska… um,-"

"Michaels. It's Alaska Michaels. You're officially…"

"Dr. Spencer Reid. My doctorates are in chemistry, engineering, and mathematics."

He can see her do the math in her head. Alaska raises an eyebrow. "When did you graduate?"

"When I was twelve."

She scoffs."I graduated at sixteen. I believe all your achievements just hurt my relevance, Dr. Reid."

Spencer shakes his head. "Not possible. Your presence still screams relevancy." They both smile as they sip their drinks. When Spencer sees her eyeing the dance floor, he internally sighs, taking the hint she probably didn't even realize she was dropping. He can't dance, not in the slightest. But she's too pretty to be stuck here at the bar, so Spencer mans up. "Care to dance?"

"Thought you'd never ask," Alaska laughs. They discard their empty glasses and he lets her lead the way. His eyes catch Morgan sitting at his old table, and the older man is smirking, shaking his head, sending Reid a thumbs up. If Reid had been close enough to hear what Morgan has to say at the sight of Alaska, he'd no doubtfully blush beet red.

"Damn, didn't know the kid had game."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Though dancing was a bit of a challenge, it proved to be fun. Not only does Alaska get lost in the rhythm, but she takes Reid along with her. Bodies are packed tight around the couple, much to Reid's distaste. It gives him an excuse to be so closely pushed up against the beauty though. He can feel how soft her skin is, and how it compares to the silk of the dress. They feel nearly identical to him.

Alaska's first bold move is putting her hands on him. It's a simple gesture at first; just her arms around his neck as she sways her body. But then, as a different song turns up the atmosphere, it turns into something a bit more…explicit. Reid blushes bright red at the feeling of her hips so close to his and the brush of her against his pants. He does his best to mimic her movements and maybe he's doing it right- because Alaska seems to gain confidence.  
The next move is when she takes his hands and places them in her own as they grind. It's a bit intimate after that, turning into a dance just between them. Everyone else is forgotten, and they make up their own tempo.

"Drink break?" Alaska offers, leaning close. His breath is hitched and he feels as though his lungs have forgotten how to expand. For a second, he thought the girl was about to brush his lips with her own. Stupid wishful thinking.

They order another round of rum and coke, which for as fast as Alaska downs the drink, seems to be her favorite. The conversation of work is brought up once more when Morgan slides up beside them and greets Alaska. It strikes Spencer as odd. Are they trying to be funny; acting like Morgan didn't have anything to do with Alaska meeting up with him in the first place?

"I'll be right back." Alaska whispers. She heads to the restrooms as Spencer nods. He turns to Morgan as soon as he makes sure she's not just going to slip out the doors and leave.

"Did you set this up?" Reid asks the taller man.

"What? Reid, man, no. That pretty young thing came to you all on her own." Morgan promises. It's obvious that his statement is under serious doubt. Morgan rolls his eyes. "I even had a few girls who were willing to meet you. But then I saw you were doing just fine."

Spencer's face lights up. He managed to pick up the world's most beautiful and intelligent girl, all on his own.

"Now," Derek states seriously, "take this, y'know, just in case. Better safe than sorry, Pretty Boy." He ends it with a wink as he pulls out his wallet. A small, foil wrapped thing is pulled out and pushed into Spencer's hand. Though he has an IQ of 187, it still takes Reid a considerable amount of time to realize what it was and what was being implied by his friend.

"No!" He just about shrieks, letting the condom fall to the ground. Morgan sighs, picks it up, and stuffs it in Spencer's pocket for him, muttering about how 'those things ain't cheap, kid'.

"What did I miss?" Alaska asks, brushing her side bangs out of her eyes. Reid is momentarily at a loss for words.

"Just letting him know that I'm calling it a night." Derek covers skillfully. "Nice to meet you…"

"Alaska Michaels." She provides, shaking his hand and bidding him farewell. All the while, the gears in the young man's head is turning. He swallows down the rest of his drink, though he's fully aware that alcohol won't help his thinking process. It's just… would Alaska seriously consider hooking up with him?! It doesn't take a genius to notice how out of his league she is.

"Are we going to be leaving anytime soon?" Alaska says to him, her lips dangerously close to his. He knows it's only so her voice is heard over the music, but it still chills him to the bone with the thought of ending the distance.

"U-um, where would we go?"

"My place, silly. Unless, you're not into chicks…" Alaska says it so seriously that it sends Spencer spluttering.

"W-what? I'm not gay," He promises. "I just, didn't mean to impose- on, y'know going home with you. Not, that, of course, I don't w-want to. Cause I do, I just-"

Her laughter stops him in his tracks. It's such a fantastic sound that he forgets to be mad or embarrassed. "It's not imposing, I'm offering." Alaska says, wrapping her arm through his and resting her head on his shoulder. It's such an endearing gesture that Spencer isn't sure how to respond.

"Um, well then. Shall we?"

CMCMCM

They take a cab, all the while, the foil wrapped object in Spencer's pocket feels like it's burning him. How could he be doing this? A one night stand is surely against his morals. He's an FBI agent, for god's sake.

"You okay, Dr. Reid?"

He nods at the girl and watches her bite her lower lip. It has a glossy tinge that wasn't really noticeable until now. Some of her eyeliner is smudged, but it's not bad at all. He doesn't think she looks desperate, or cheap, or any other negative cognitive that he'd usually see in a movie. This is the part that usually has him rolling his eyes- a wasted girl, wanting sex, and bound to tear the guys heart to shreds. It could always work the other way around, of course, but in Spencer's perspective, that could never happen.

In the present, this girl is still beautiful. The smear of eyeliner does not deduct an ounce of appeal from those bright eyes. The smell of alcohol does not take away from his racing heart or the feeling of her hand keeping his warm.

"Here we are." The cab driver states. They get out after Alaska tips the man (she insisted, in repayment for the drinks), and head up the sidewalk to the house. It's an actual house, surprisingly enough. Spencer expected some apartment complex like his own, or small shack. Stupid, he realizes now, considering her occupation. Engineering isn't exactly low class and she doesn't have some sick, schizophrenic mother to help aid like himself.

"Nice place," He comments. It's his style of home- with book cases lining the living room and a fireplace in front of the couch. No TV in sight. The kitchen is possibly the smallest room, and it's not by any standards 'small'. Alaska stops there and sets her keys down on a counter, explaining that she'll have to have a friend drive her over to get her car from the bar's parking lot. She had been too intoxicated to drive the pair of them here safely.  
With that said, she pulls the fridge open and pulls out a bottle of smooth vodka.

"Care for some liquid courage?" She grins.

"Sure." He says, trying to hide his discomfort. Spencer's not sure how well of a drunk he is, and it's worrisome to find out with no one other than this girl around. What if he's loud? What if he's embarrassing?  
They head to the couch and sit on opposite sides. She props her feet up, resting them in Spencer's lap after he sits down with his legs crossed underneath him.

"Make yourself at home, Dr."

"You don't have to call me that, Dr. Michaels." Reid taunts back.

"You're so damn cute." She sighs. "I just wanna run my fingers through that mess of hair."

"Why don't you?' He responds after an extra long sip of the vodka. It's a bit bold to be normal for him.

"Maybe I will." She giggles, setting the bottle he'd just passed her on the coffee table and scooting close. Her hand gingerly comes up to rest on his cheek, feeling the light stubble before moving up to twist in his hair. He should have anticipated the next move, but he was too sidetracked at how good her hand felt on him. It wasn't his first kiss. The young doctor kind of wishes it was though; it put all the other ones to shame. Saying that Spencer enjoyed the feel of her lips was an understatement, and he didn't even know how much he loved it until her free hand moves down to his crotch. He almost apologizes for his body's immediate reaction, until the attractive girl situates herself so she's straddling his lap. When her hand starts to stroke the skin of he sides, his shirt having been pushed up a little, his heart goes into over drive. Their lips part for air, but reconnect quickly. This time, a soft bite on his lower lip steals his attention. He parts his lips, knowing the protocol. All he can think is how much better it feels than when he made out with Lila Archer in her pool.

The next time the kiss is broken, it's so Alaska can pull his shirt completely off. She then pulls her dress up, over her head. The sight before him has him squirming. His pants are suddenly way too tight and Alaska is in nothing but her matching underwear and bra set. Incidentally enough, the color, black, makes her porcelain skin stand out even more so than her dress. He initiates the next kiss, telling himself that if Alaska didn't want sex, she wouldn't have brought him to her home and took her dress off. A whim of wanting to know if her skin tastes as good as it feels, he pulls his lips down to travel the length of her jaw line, then neck. She's breathing heavy, fingers fumbling with his belt buckle.

"You've never had sex before, have you, Spencer?"

The question causes him to blush profusely, but he manages a shake of his head. Better to be truthful. She laughs, producing one of the sexiest sounds ever. Alaska is so breathless that her laugh becomes just as carefree and reckless as her personality. "I seriously didn't think it was possible for you to be more attractive, Spence." She confides.

"I should be the one saying that." He says, lips on brushing her collarbone. It must've been the right thing to do because she makes a sound deep in her throat, fingers finally scrambling, getting his belt and pants undone.

"My bedroom is probably a much more comfortable place for this."

Reid nods, following her when she gets up and heads elsewhere, but not before taking another swig of the vodka.

The bedroom is large, decorated with abstract painting on each wall and unlit candles set in fancy black holders, balanced by nails on the walls. A small, black book case holds textbooks and a few novels that Reid recognizes as classics. An office space is set up to the left of the big closet doors. What catches his eye is the fact that everything is extremely well kept. The color of the walls is a cream, and each painting is black and cream, fitting the theme. The hardwood floors are clean and the black iron bed is the type to belong to a hopeless romantic- the wrought iron is twisted into a French design. The sheets are of course, cream colored silk.

"This is… wow." He says.

"Are you going to gape at my décor all night? I know, it's a bit prettier than me, but-" She laughs.

"Stop it." Reid gasps. "You're stunning."

"Someone's a happy and flattering kind of drunk." Alaska smirks.

"I may be drunk, but you're still beautiful." Spencer declares. "And when I'm sober, it'll still be true." Her eyes soften for a minute, and her smile turns kind of sad, which confuses him, immensely. "You're so sweet." She mumbles. The chat is ended though as she comes forward and kisses him once more. It's different from the others though. This kiss is gentle and full of different kind of meaning than drunken lust. He stops looking into it as her tongue invades his mouth and glades against the roof of his mouth in a teasing manner. They end up on the bed when she shoves him down playfully.

He pulls the condom out and sets it beside them before she helps him get his pants off. Without the alcohol, the young FBI agent probably wouldn't have gone along with this. Hell, he probably wouldn't have even entered her room, or made out on her couch. The alcohol and Alaska's praises disguised as kisses built up his self esteem, so he helps her unclasp her bra and drag her underwear off. He even goes so far as to flinging them onto the floor before leaning over her to trail kisses down her petite yet lanky body.

It's mainly the sounds she makes that fuels him. The gasps, pants, and moans of his name. The foreplay only goes so far. She signifies how ready she is when the condom gets tossed at him and she moves herself so he's situated between her legs. He fumbles for a second, never having had to put one on before. It's simple enough though. But when he look back at her, he realizes just how lost he is.

"Don't turn shy on me now, Dr." Alaska begs. He tries his best to keep himself calm, which doesn't become too hard when their lips reconnect. 'How,' Reid wonders, 'can kissing her ever get boring?'

He manages to guide himself into her warm sheath, and it all became pretty smooth sailing after that. The pleasure of her muscles contracting around him made his brain stop being so analogical and all of his nerves seemed to be set on fire by the girl's every touch. It proved to be very easy to lose his self control and to experience rather than to worry.

CMCMCM

It's the next morning that Reid's normal, awkward self sets in. He finds himself naked, wrapped in silk sheets, with Alaska clinging to him as a raging headache courses through. What woke him was his cell phone's ring tone. It's not helping his headache in the slightest. He gently pulls out of Alaska's arms to search for his pants, where he locates his phone.

"Hello?" He answers, voice low so he doesn't wake the snoozing girl or upset his aching head. The caller ID said JJ, which is odd, considering it's a Saturday.

"Emergency case. We're meeting at the office in an hour." His co worker informs him. The tone of her voice tells him just how displeased she is at the situation. It's just about the only thing that keeps him from getting irritated at her.

"Right. See you."

"And Reid?"

"Yes?" He responds, eyes falling to the discarded foil wrapper on the ground. The agent immediately flushes. If only JJ knew where he was at that moment. Movement has him glancing up, seeing Alaska blink and sit up. Despite his embarrassment that he's still naked, as well as she is, he holds a finger to his lips, shushing any questions the girl has.

"Morgan told me you were having a good start to the day. Sorry to ruin whatever goodness you've got into." There's an edge to his friend's voice that deepens his blush.

"Gotta go." Spencer says hurriedly, snapping the phone shut. The next thing he does is pull on boxers and greet Alaska at the same time.

"Leaving so soon?" She questions somewhat quietly. His brain processes the tone and happily deems it as disappointment.

"We have an emergency case. I'm sorry."

Another question is bothering her, so she just spits it out. "Spence, do you remember much of our conversations last night?" As she asks, she pulls the sheets tighter around her. He immediately relates that softened depth in her eyes to the one he saw last night during a particular conversation.

"Somewhat." He lies, pulling on his pants. With his eidetic memory, of course he remembers. She yanks a t-shirt and shorts out of her closet to put on so she can follow him to the door. Reid does his best not to sneak a peak, and is successful at controlling his silly whim. In the living room, he locates the rest of his clothes and throws them on. Alaska scribbles something on a piece of notepad paper and rips it out, holding it out for the handsome genius. He grins, seeing her number and address scribbled down on it. The beauty opens the door for him and leans against it, sad to see him go, not knowing if she'll ever see him again.

"Alaska?" Reid asks hesitantly, turning around in her doorway. Her head perks up to signify that he has her attention. He says his statement quickly, before turning to go get a cab. "I'm sober now, and you're just as gorgeous as before."

While he doesn't see her reaction, he knows by the beautiful laughter behind him that he said the right thing.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Reid arrives at the office an hour and a half late. A new record for him. It wasn't necessarily one he wanted to make, but he had to shower once he got to his own apartment, then his piece of crap car wouldn't start up until the fifteenth try. Agent Hotchner sighs when he sees the youngest member of his team hurry in and heads for his desk.

"Reid," Hotch starts, walking down to the bullpen to join him. "You're a bit behind-"

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, it won't happen again. But it's a Saturday and I didn't expect to be called in." Chuckling coming from behind them stops the conversation. Both men turn to look at Morgan, whose sitting back in his chair, feet propped up on his desk.

"I know what you were up to last night, Pretty Boy." Morgan winks. Reid turns a deep shade of red. Hotch shakes his head and raises his hand to stop Morgan when he goes to explain.

"I believe it's best if I don't know." He says. "Wheels up in ten. Let's get going."

Reid purposely sets his stuff in the chair across from him so no one interrupts his thinking once they talk about the case. He watches as JJ and Emily sit by each other, Rossi following with Hotch, whose explaining something about Jack being sick. Morgan comes aboard and moves Reid's go bag to the ground, making his pathetic effort go to waste.

"Where are we going to?" Spencer asks to keep his co worker from the topic he knew was coming.

"Don't 'where are we going' me. I have important questions, that have answers I can only get from you, kid."

"Stop," The younger agent sighs, leaning his head back against the seat.

"Did you use protect-"

"Alright, let's fill Reid in." Rossi says, unknowingly saving Spencer from Morgan's embarrassing questions.

"Miami, Florida. Females are being targeted. They're sexually assaulted, throats slit, and left in dumpsters." Hotch summarizes. Spencer flips through the gruesome pictures in the file JJ tosses him. Each girl is found dressed in nothing but a bikini top.

"So they're targeted at the beach?" He asks, nose wrinkling up in disgust. Beaches are disgusting for one, and for two, dumpsters are sure to smell great in the Miami heat.

"Presumably so." Rossi says. "Their bottoms are taken as trophies."

"No restraints, so either he's physically fit enough to scare them into submission, or he has a gun for leverage." Prentiss adds.

"When we get there, I want JJ with me to set up at the office, Prentiss with Rossi to the dumpster, and Reid with Morgan. I want you two to check the public beach. Take a picture of each of the four victims, see if anyone kiosk workers recognized them. Also stop at any local shop or stands close by." Hotch orders.  
Morgan looks stoked at going to the beach while Reid looks like he wants to bang his head of the window a few times.

"Now, I need a name, Reid." Morgan orders. Everyone on the plane looks over to the two, curious.

"Name of who?" Emily asks.

"His one night stand." the dark skinned man smirks. Gasps from the girls, followed by their giggles are the only response.

"I just want a name. I'll leave you alone the whole plane ride if you just give me her-"

"Alaska Michaels. She introduced herself last night, remember?" Spencer says. He speaks quick and quietly so no one else catches it. Morgan quirks an eyebrow and Spencer sighs. "That really is her name. I know, it's unique."

It's not until Morgan pulls his phone out of his pocket and types a message that Spencer gets what he's doing.

"No!" Reid gasps, reaching for the phone. He's too late though, Morgan already hit send.

"You should've knew I'd tell her."

Morgan kept true to his word- he didn't mention Alaska or the club the rest of the ride. In fact, Spencer almost forgot about it, until the computer monitor flashed on with Garcia's face.

"Sir, victim number four's family still needs to be notified. The police were hoping you'd explain the situation to them when you arrived?" Garcia says.  
Hotch and JJ share a glance and he agrees to it.

"Alrighty." Garcia chirps. "And Reid-" He groans, sending Morgan a glare.

"Good work, she's like super pretty. Smart as well! Look at that, she's a PhD kind of doctor too! How freaking cute-" Rossi promptly shut the laptop shut. "Let's focus on the case."

CMCMCM

"We're so sorry for your loss." JJ says as gently as she can as the parents in front of her almost drown in their tears. "We're doing everything we can to find the person who's responsible."

Aaron Hotchner looks down, knowing he should ask them ask if their daughter, Lana, had any enemies, but they're simply too emotional. He gives his head a subtle shake that JJ caught and they escort them to their cars.

"Let's work victimology." Hotch suggests when they arrive back to the police station.

"Okay, all four girls are between ages twenty to twenty six. Willow Teadmen, Laurel Vandyke, Gracie Miller, and Lana Perkins. Garcia's searching for any connections between them." JJ writes the girls' names underneath their crime scene photos and starts pinning the map up on another cork board for Reid to look over once he gets back.

"Willow was twenty four, worked as a cashier, had the day off, friends said she was supposed to meet them at the beach, but never arrived. Body found by resident near the dumpster. " Hotch reads, taking a seat at the head of the table provided for them. "Laurel just completed med school, age twenty six, and was murdered on a Saturday, so she had the day to herself. Currently unemployed. Also found by resident near he dumpster."

"Gracie wasn't like either of those. Both Willow and Laurel were free that day, and off their normal schedule. Gracie was only twenty, and never showed up for work that evening at the local theatre. Police had found her body before the missing person's report even came in. They thought she just forgot to call off. And Lana, age twenty two, she was unemployed and didn't go to school. Somewhat of a loner, body was found by police. No missing person's report was put out."

"Her family didn't notice her absence?" Hotch questions, disbelieving.

"Nope. They're used to not hearing from her."

"Shame." Hotch says, almost to himself. He vows to himself to never let an absence from Jack become normal anymore than it has to with his type of job.

CMCMCM

"Hi, I'm SSA Prentiss, this is SSA Rossi." Emily tells the police officer who greets them. They each flash their badges before being lead over to the dumpster. An alleyway is behind the dumpster, and blood marks are marked. They investigate the splatters more closely.

"Any confirmation this is Lana's blood?" Rossi asks.

"Not yet, but we're fairly certain." The guy who answers is a younger gentlemen. He must be new- he looks slightly nauseated by the mess of blood.

"So, he somehow gets her alone, in a dark alley-" The older agent starts.

"That's a challenge by itself. She's twenty two years old. You think she'd no better than to follow a stranger into a hidden area." Prentiss says.

Rossi nods. "Either he wasn't a stranger, or she was forced with a weapon."

"Lana was shot here, standing like this." Emily lines herself up with the splatters and Rossi looks between that spot and the dumpster.

"He has to be physically fit to carry a body from all the way down here to there, plus tossing her in."

Emily nods. "Let's go see if the other dump sites are the same."

CMCMCM

"Why couldn't Emily come with you?" Reid pouts, looking around the beach. Girls are prancing around, wearing practically nothing as guys sit back, openly staring. It's a pervert's playground.

"Because we'd have too much fun." Morgan laughs. It's always amazed Spencer that Derek Morgan is such a happy person to be around, but when it came to victims, rapists, murderers, and this job in general, he turns into a whole other person. He's kind of glad Morgan's nice to him- other wise he'd be scared of him 24/7. He likes this Morgan, though he can get annoying.

Morgan is now studying the pictures the girls, each smiling in their portraits. "They're all attractive." He observes aloud.

Reid laughs sarcastically. "So our UnSub has high standards."

Derek nods. "The hottest girls here are the target. If you were a hot girl, where would you hang out?" Spencer glares at him.

"You're not helping, Pretty Boy." He teases. "I, for one, would hang out near the hot guys."

"We're going to spend the day scoping out 'hot' guys?"

"Not necessarily." The two head off to the drink stands set up around the beach, laughing. Their laughter is cut short though when a high pitched scream sounds. They both turn and look at each other before bolting towards the sound.

By some miracle, Spencer keeps up with Derek all the way through the parking lot, up the street, and to an alleyway. They just get a glimpse of a guy in a red sweatshirt as he runs off from the other side of the alley. Morgan sprints after him as Reid goes to the girl laying on the ground, sobbing.

"I'm Dr. Spencer Reid. I work with the FBI, you're safe now." Reid says. "What's your name?" The girl is in nothing but a bikini and she's soaked, obviously having just left from the beach.

"Stephanie Williams. H-he was going to shoot me if I didn't listen." She tells him. "I screamed and he said I shouldn't have done that. That I must not want to li-live." She's practically gulping for air and her eyes are wide, spilling over with emotion.

"Shh, it's okay. Let's head to the police station, alright? You could help us find him." Just as Reid gets the shaking girl to her feet, Morgan reappears, shaking his head furiously.

"I couldn't find him. He turned a few too many corners." They leave her be until they get to the station. Morgan gets hers settled in an empty room and they search the big station for Hotch, leaving a police man to look after Stephanie. Spencer finds them, seated around the table in what appears to have been a break room previously.

"Who is that?" JJ asks, having seen them bring her in.

"The girl who would've been victim number five."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Anything useful?" Rossi asks, glancing up at Hotch and JJ. They both sat down with the girl, trying to find information. Meanwhile, Reid marked the locations of the murders, including the newest attempted one, listening as Prentiss filled him in about the dump sites.

"A ton." Hotch says, reaching his phone and dialing for Garcia and setting it on speaker.

"Waiting for commands." She greets them.

"I need a list of all the life guards in Miami."

Typing is the only response for a moment, until, "Jeez. That's a pretty big list. It is Miami, boss man."

"Stephanie said he was dressed as a life guard and held a gun to her. Roughly six feet tall, blonde hair. Cross reference that."

"Yes sir." Garcia says. "But, that's still a big list."

"He's killing in a close circumference. He either works at these two beach sections, or lives in this area." Spencer chips in, telling Garcia street and beach names.

"Narrows it down to about 10 life guards, and if I add in the physical appearance, two guys show up."

"Send pictures, we'll get Stephanie to help ID him." JJ orders, heading out to the room containing the startled girl.

"On it."

"Thanks, Baby Girl." Morgan calls before Hotch hangs up.

"If the UnSub had a gun, why didn't he use it on us?" Reid asks.

"Maybe he saw he was out numbered?" Morgan suggests, taking a seat. Rossi brings up the suspects' pictures on his electronic device and heads to show JJ and Stephanie. Hotch and Prentiss are both examining the geographical map.

"What if he's not even a life guard?" Prentiss asks.

"No, it fit's the profile." Hotch says. "He loves having control. More than likely, he gained the trust of the other victims. Walked them to their cars, started a conversation; that kind of thing. He gets off on misusing their trust."

JJ and Rossi join them. "Positive ID on number one." Rossi says into his phone, presumably to Garcia. He switches it onto speaker. "We need a name, address, and work site."

"The mystery man number one is Warren Slait. Currently employed at the beach were Reid and Morgan were scoping out before they found Stephanie. Address has been sent to your phones of his home and the beach." Garcia informs.

"You're the best, PG." Emily says, checking that the addresses are, in fact, on her phone.

CMCMCM

Reid finds himself with Prentiss and JJ. They're checking out the beach for Slait- just Reid's luck. He has to go their twice in one day.

"Why do we have to be working when we visit places like this?" JJ groans. The sun is just setting and shops are lit up everywhere.

"I know." Prentiss sympathizes.

Spencer's tapping his foot impatiently in the back seat, gaining both women's attention.

"You okay?" The dark haired one asks.

"I just want this case to end already."

"So you can get home to your lady friend?" JJ snorts.

Spencer stares out the window in response, ignoring the tease. His hands fish his phone out of his pocket for a distraction. It's on a whim that he finds enters Alaska's number, which he memorized, and sends her a quick message. It's simple- _Hi, it's Spencer. Dinner, tomorrow? I can pick you up at six._  
The young man looks out the window again, putting his phone back. He's still looking away, cheeks slightly tainted with anxiety for her to answer, when they pull into the beach's parking lot. It's crowded even more so than it was earlier. The three agents split up, scanning the beach. They're all uncomfortable in the heat while wearing long pants. Spencer groans at the feeling of sand soaking into his shoes. They occasionally ask vendors and random people if they've seen Slait, but no one says anything helpful.

"Guys, I see him." JJ whispers. They both look to see Slait switch with a previous life guard, taking his shift. Together, they motion to surround the chair, hands moving to their holstered guns.

"Warren Slait, you are under arrest. Come down from the chair, nice and slow." Prentiss says, moving directly in front of the chair. JJ is covering his right side, as Reid took the left. He has no where to go. So, like any guilty soul, he makes an escape route. He jumps out of the chair, knocks over Emily with one hard punch, and runs. No one can risk shooting, not with this many by standers. Reid and JJ take off after him as Emily picks herself up, out of the sand. "Shit." She mutters, sprinting after them. Her face is throbbing, but it's nothing she's not used to.

Reid is the closest, his desire to catch the creep making his legs move faster than normal. Slait had taken a sudden turn that surprised Spencer. He's heading straight towards the water. Internally groaning, he realizes Slait's plan. To be a life guard, you have to be an excellent swimmer. Slait's probably going to swim until he reaches a more crowded part of the beach so he can escape. With fumbling hands, he throws his gun, badge, phone, and wallet behind him, where JJ is running. He makes sure he got the memo before turning back to watch Slait.

She stops in her tracks, gathers his stuff and watches, gasping for oxygen. JJ knows her and Prentiss would probably hold up better against a life guard than Reid, but she can barely breathe as it is. An injured Emily joins her, her hand pressed to her jaw that's starting to swell.

It's with much distaste that Reid follows when Slait trots through the water and dives under. Spencer's never been much of a swimmer, but he goes for it anyway. With a big breath, he dives. He knows he's so close to catching Slait, and that's what pushes him to swim faster and harder than he ever has. He resurfaces and finds he can't touch ground, meaning the water is over six feet deep here.

Not even five feet from where he is, bubbles clue him in. Reid takes a breath and goes under, reaching for the criminal. Slait is anticipating it, though. He grabs one of Spencer's wrists in an iron grasp, the other hand he uses to land a punch in Spencer's gut. The saved up oxygen whooshes out and the agent is completely vulnerable. He grabs Slait by the collar of his shirt, despite his screaming lungs.

Slait must've needed air as well, because the struggle breaks the surface of the water. Reid lands a punch and twists one of Slait's arms behind his back as the man tries to breathe. He gets his other hand free from the criminal's grasp and locates his handcuffs in his pocket. This is a first- handcuffing someone underwater. He manages, but just barely. Slait is still trying to wiggle away, but it's no use. He can't swim while handcuffed.

Slowly but steadily, Spencer swims for sure, his hand latched onto Slait's arm and pulling him along. Half way back to shore, Morgan appears and helps.  
Reid looks back to see his whole team had cleared the perimeter, minus a police car and ambulance. He knows he looks ridiculous, his clothes are soaked and his hair is dangling in front of his eyes. JJ gives a little giggle and hands uses a towel to slick her younger co worker's hair back as Morgan shoves Slait into the back of the police car.

"Nice one, Reid." Hotch smirks.

Reid groans, wondering how long into the future his team will tease him over this.

"I had no idea you could swim that well, Spence." JJ smiles.

"How's Prentiss?" He responds.

"Fine, beside the bruise forming on her face." Rossi answers. Paramedics bring Reid a blanket and few more towels, asking to take a look at the hand he's moving slow and gently.

"It's fine." Reid tells them.

"Just let us make sure none of the bones are out of place." One man pleads. Spencer gives in, trying to ignore the chill that's settling in his body. They feel his hand over twice before leaving him be. Prentiss has an ice pack, he notices before getting in the SUV.

"Can we leave tonight?" Reid asks, though he already knows the likely answer.

"We're staying the night at a hotel. Rossi and I will go push Slait into confessing tonight, so we can go first thing in the morning." Hotch tells. Morgan rides with them to the hotel, after arguing with Hotch. He wanted to go hear the confession, but his boss insisted he go get some dry clothes and some sleep.

"Pretty Boy, those were some mad combat skills."

Spencer just shakes his head and huddles up in the big blanket he got from the EMTs. Morgan's soaked up to his waist from helping him pull Slait in, and he's shuddering slightly. He refuses when Spencer offers to share his blanket.

"I bet Alaska will be glad to see you when you get back." Morgan chuckles. Emily and JJ sit up front, clearly waiting to hear Reid's response.

"That's none of your business." He's smiling as he says it though, which causes Morgan to urge him to say something.

"You used the condom I gave you, right?"

Spencer blushes deep red as the girls giggle. Morgan knows he did, and Spencer knows so. He also knows Morgan only asked because the girls were present.

"That's true friendship between men; sharing condoms." Emily laughs.

"Answer him, Reid! Please, please, please tell me you used protection, because I swear to God-"

"Yes, JJ. I did. Happy? Now shut it." Spencer says quickly, before hiding his face in the blanket.

The three around him laugh about it some more, but it falls to deaf ears, because Spencer has his eyes closed and is replaying that night in his mind. His heart lightens at the sound of her laughter ringing in his ears, and then the sight of her face. The feeling of them dancing so close, to the feeling of her- it's all a very, very, very good memory to get lost in.

He loves the memory of Alaska Michaels, and he feels excited that night when he checks his phone to see she responded to his text he sent earlier that day.

_I'd love that. ~A_


	5. Chapter 5

**Warning: This story will contain torture, and rape in up coming chapters, but I promise, no character death of anyone in the BAU or Alaska. John Green is mentioned in this chapter. His book did inspire the name "Alaska" and nothing I wrote about him in here is concrete facts, just a part of my imagination. **

Chapter 5

Dr. Reid had been jumpy the whole day. His nerves were at an all-time high. He couldn't help but ask himself if meeting up with Alaska was a good thing. Being an FBI agent pretty much cut people off from relationships- everyone's life confirmed that. Prentiss and Morgan never hold steady relationships, let alone try. Hotch's ex wife died at the hands of a killer, destroying not only his happiness, but his son's as well. Rossi already has three ex wives, each ended over the same thing- his job at the BAU. Even Elle and Gideon, before they left, didn't have a grasp on true love. His mind kept flickering to JJ. How did she manage? Well, of course, her pregnancy somewhat forced a relationship between her and Will, but they're making it work. Right? And Garcia- she's seeing Kevin. Or, was anyway. Their breakup hasn't been spoken of much, and the computer tech didn't seem all that phased by it.

So, when Spencer Reid looks up at Alaska's home, he hesitates. By dating this beautiful girl, he'd being pulling her into a world of living demons and incredible danger. Everyone he loves is automatically put into danger because of him. Is he really selfish enough to bring Alaska into that world? He forces himself to turn around and walk back to his car. It's like a million needles diving to his heart. Will this all be a memory, ten years down the road? Will this girl's memory haunt him? Will she turn into a big 'what if' in his life?

"Spencer!" A voice calls. He freezes and turns slowly.

"Hey," She says, confusion written with flourish across her features, "where are you going?"

"I was afraid I was too early." Spencer lies easily, biting his lip. Alaska's face lights up and she shakes her head. He watches her pull her front door shut and walk down to him, wiping her hands nervously on her jeans. Her appearance wipes all of his earlier doubt. In those well fit jeans and flowing cashmere shirt, she's radiating beauty. Her hair is a cascade of black waves that looks like it'd feel similar to feathers.

"Where are we going to, cutie pie?" Alaska asks, her words teasing. Spencer blushes and opens the passenger side door for her.

"It's a surprise." He responds when he gets in and starts his car.

At first, they're both silent, neither knowing where the conversation should pick up.

"So, your case ended pretty quickly." Alaska says. Her fingers move to turn the radio on, and he has to scold himself for taking his eyes off the road to watch her movements.

"Yeah. The UnSub was a life guard."

"How'd you catch him?"

"I, uh, jumped in the ocean after him. He gave up when I got the handcuffs on him."

"What?" She exclaims. "You jumped in the ocean?!"

Spencer takes a bit of pride in himself as he relays the events and details of the case. Of course, it's a total PG version when it came to the gruesome facts. What intrigued Alaska was the fact that Spencer could cope.

"What do you mean?" He asked when she voiced her fascination.

"It's evil, surrounding you from all sides." She elaborates. "I don't get how you can stay sane with all of that. Death, torture, loss. It's the worst part of life. You have to be a super hero to do that kind of job."

Spencer grins and blushes. Before he knows it, Alaska's leaning over and kissing his cheek. Thank God the vehicle was stopped at a red light- that small gesture stole all of his attention. He turns his head to look at her, and her lips push against his, sending small pulses of pleasure through his body.

"Pull over somewhere." Alaska breathes, pulling away. A car behind Spencer had honked it's horn, impatiently waiting because the traffic light had turned green. Reid does as commanded, heart leaping in his chest. He had made dinner reservations for a low key restaurant, but that could surely be rescheduled.  
As soon as the car's turned off, Spencer mans up, turns to face the beauty in the passenger seat, and kiss her for real, his hands cupping her face. Happiness is practically radiating from her, and it's that aura that gives him courage. So much courage that he swipes his tongue against her lip, a small way to plea for more. She grants it with eager breaths, her mouth opens and lets his tongue explore.

Alaska Michaels isn't someone who is new to dating. She's made out with plenty of guys before, but none like this. This felt like it meant something. Spencer is, in everyway, a hero. He puts his life at risk for others, and that's something that's unheard of during the current time period. His intelligence and nervousness is a turn on for her, and it's one she never would've imagined she had. Who knew it was possible for a guy to be so cute? Normally, she'd view him as a challenge. Someone who'd be smarter than her, an immediate annoyance. But he's not like that. He's an equal.

It's Spencer that pulls away. He's breathless and completely exhilarated.

"Is dinner still part of the plan?" He asks.

Alaska nods, holding back her sexual comment that had almost surfaced. She is fairly certain that he'd be scared if she was that straight forward. She behaves herself until they reach the restaurant.

It's a place she'd never been to before, and she can't help but love the place. It's small, dimly lit, and decorated with a romantic feel. Roses are everywhere, the wooden tables are covered with classic white clothes, and the place smells incredible.

"Why have I never seen this place?" She gasps. Spencer grins, feeling a bit smug. He managed to surprise Alaska- that's a surprise in itself. Her fingers are loosely entwined with his as the waitress seats them. Never before had he known holding hands felt so good. The constant reminder that she's near brings a different wave of euphoria.

All through their dinner, they drink white wine and talk about everything. From family, to hobbies, to books.

"Do you know who John Green is, Spence?"

"The author?"

"Yeah. My mom actually knew him for a long time, and he had started writing tales of a girl he loved. Mom always had a taste for books, and she knew he'd make it big someday. The girl in his short stories had elaborate names. Her favorite starred a girl named Alaska. She told me once I was born, she gave me the name to give him hope. John had just begun writing a book, but it wasn't right. He'd ripped it up and told my mom that writing wasn't for him."

"Didn't he write a book called Looking for Alaska?"

"Yep." Alaska smiles. "All from the short story my mom fell in love with. The girl's a beautiful kind of mess. Lost, courageous, and completely insane in her own way. In the end, the main question is around her death, trying to figure out if she committed suicide or not."

"Did she, in the end?" Spencer asks. The tale sparked his interest, immediately.

"John never answers the question. He says he gets a lot of angry letters over it, but he ended it the way it should be ended. It's a mystery, just like her. People will always draw their own conclusions, but no one can know for sure. Heck, John probably doesn't know for sure."

"Wow." Reid says. He's speechless. Yes, her name is different and weird, but after knowing the story it correlates with, it fits so perfectly. His Alaska is that perfect girl; the world's most fascinating heroine.

"I know, right?" She laughs.

"My mom told me I was named Spencer cause she liked the way it sounded." He jokes.

"That's a good reason." Alaska nods. "Spencer Reid- it does have a good ring to it."

"Not nearly as good as Alaska Michaels."

That comment has Alaska biting her lip and blushing, her eyes shining. "What's next on our agenda, Dr. Reid?"

"Whatever you want. I'll go pay at the front."

"I'll meet you at the car." She nods, heading to the bathroom.

CMCMCM

They end up going to Spencer's apartment, much to his dismay. He hadn't cleaned recently, and the mess inside is one he's embarrassed about. It doesn't phase Alaska, though. As soon as they're in the door, she heads for his book cases.

"My kind of collection," She grins. "Missing a few classics, though."

He listens to her list some books, mentally memorizing the names for when he goes to the book store next.

"Show me around?" Alaska asks innocently. Though he sees through her intentions, he plays along anyway. They reach his bedroom and she moves her hands to trail up his arms, then across his chest.

"What's your favorite room in the house?" She asks.

"The living room, I read there a lot."

"Well, Dr. I'm about to change that." It's then that she pushes him down playfully onto the bed, crawling on top of him. Her kisses start at his throat, teasing him by not going anywhere near his lips. Every part of his body is on high alert at her movements. Her fingers are delicate yet quick as they remove the buttons to his dress shirt. He notes how insanely soft her skin is as her hands move down his bare torso. She searches his pockets discretely, but he knows what she's searching for.

"In my wallet." Spencer gasps. She grabs the foil package and sets it next to them, pulling off her shirt before she finally lets her lips touch his. This time, it's her that explores his mouth, loving the feel of having him under her control.

Her hair is draped over him, brushing his skin. Spencer was correct- it does feel like feathers. Eventually, he can't take much more of the foreplay. He rolls them over and takes control of the situation by removing as much of the useless clothing between them as he can. She helps him when it came to unclasping her bra and undoing his belt, but left the rest to him. In less than ten minutes, she did a complete 180 from teasing to complete submission to him.

Spencer loves sex with her, he'll admit that without shame. But it's afterwards that holds a new kind of love for him. It's when she's tired and cuddling up next to him that he cherishes. Alaska laces their fingers together and rests her head on his chest, one of her legs hooked with his.

"I've never met anyone that makes me feel this complete." She confides to him.

"I never have either." He beams.

A click is what ends his happiness. The sound is something he knows all too well. When he turns his head to the doorway, his fear is confirmed. Alaska's body tenses next to him, her fingers tightening around his, as they stare at the gun and the masked man behind it.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Get up, slowly, and get dressed." The man says. The ski mask shows Spencer that he's a white male, his eyes brown. That's it- nothing useful. His brain switches into work mode, and when he untangles himself from Alaska, he goes for his dress pants that he wore home from work earlier that day. His badge and phone are still in the pockets, though his gun is out of reach, in the kitchen. Alaska takes a second longer than him to get dressed, her breathing uneven and eyes wide with fear.

"What do you want from us?" Reid asks calmly.

"Don't speak." The man orders. "Now, we're going to go out the back and get into my vehicle. But first, come here, ma'am."

Alaska steps forward at his command, hesitantly. He grabs her when she's close, and fits both of her small hands into his, behind her back.

"Spencer, lead the way." The guy says. It's the calm in his voice that worries Reid the most. He is in control of the situation, and he knows it, too. "Nothing funny, or she dies."

It's the thought of Alaska dying that keeps Spencer from going for his gun. His front door is wide open, as if waiting for him. It's a taunt directed to the agent. His door had been locked and shut properly not long ago. He goes out through the back, walking down each of the stairs leading to the exit, his hands shaking. A dark blue van is waiting for them, ignition started and another masked man in the driver's seat. Spencer's eyes flicker over the license plate.

"Get in the back."

He follows orders, and Alaska is thrown in with him before the guy shuts them in and joins his partner up front. Spencer immediately pulls his phone out, turns it to silent, and hits speed dial for Hotch. His boss is ten times smarter than the police. He makes sure the volume is down so low that no one can hear when Hotch answers.

"My team will find us." Spencer says, loudly.

"Shut up." The driver answers. "No one will find you."

"Alaska and I know my team will help us."

Hotch, on the other end, immediately rushes around his room, and pulls on clothes, listening intently. Spencer had been kidnapped, he got the memo.

"This van stands out. Not many people drive this kind of vehicle, y'know." Spencer continues, even when the captors go to shush him. Dark blue is an unusual color."

"Shut. Up." The driver says yet again. Spencer ends the phone call, knowing Hotch understood, and opens up his text message history. He clicks Hotch's name and quietly punches in the license plate of the van that he memorized. His phone is almost dead, so he turns it off, planning to turn it back on when they reach they location.

"Spencer." Alaska whispers. She'd seen her companion's phone and felt immense relief. "Why are they doing this?"

"I'm not sure, yet." He whispers back.

The drive is a long one, and the windows don't reveal much other than the highway. It's so dark outside that he can't see very far. They make several turns after that onto back roads, and then take a long drive through woods. All the while, Alaska is clinging onto Spencer's arm, trying desperately to keep her cool. Reid is used to kidnappings, murders, rapists, and all other scary things. She definitely isn't.

When they arrive to the place, Spencer turns his phone on and shoves it back in his pocket. He has no service, but Garcia may be able to track it. The men come around the vehicle and open the back. Reid moved himself so he's between Alaska and the door. A hand fists in his hair and jerks him forward. Alaska lets out a small sound of protest when she's pulled out by her arm.

After working with the BAU for so many years, it's become habit to memorize surroundings with an eye for detail. Reid notices how unstable the farm house in front of him looks- the paint is chipped, a window in the front is broken, and a rat crawls under the porch steps. It's the kind of place that's only heard of in horror films. The gravel path that the van traveled on is narrow, weaving through dense woods. Trees are all there are to see, except for the cornfield that surrounds the back of the house. Their captors pull out their guns and handcuff both Spencer and Alaska's hands in front of them. Reid's mind analyzes the best escape route- through the woods. The trees are excellent cover. He doesn't dare run for it, though. Not with a gun trained precisely on Alaska. A gun is pressed firmly into Spencer's back, forcing him forward. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees that both men are taking off their masks and stuffing them away in their pockets.

Once in the abandoned house, the captives are forced down a long hallway, passing many other rooms in the process. Clearly the men are new and stupid at this kind of thing- letting their prisoners see the lay out of the house and their location is risky. Spencer makes a map in his head to get to the front door from the room they're led into. It's empty, except for the caged window. The walls are concrete, and the door is made of solid wood. It's perhaps the sturdiest thing in the whole house.

Alaska and Reid are pushed deeper into the room so the captors can enter and shut the door behind them. It's an automatic thing that Reid moves Alaska behind him.

"We did it." The man who abducted them says. He's tall, with long, shaggy blonde hair. The driver is slightly smaller, with a buzz cut and distinguishably cold, blue eyes. They don't look anything alike, so Spencer rules them out as relatives. Friends, maybe?

They're both armed, which keeps Reid from fighting. One slip up, and Alaska could be killed. He isn't sure yet why he was targeted, or if it has more to do with Alaska than himself. His best way of getting out of this mess is building a profile, and for that, he needs to get them talking.

"Who are you?" Alaska asks, as if reading his mind.

"You, pretty little thing, can call me Satan." The driver smirks. "And this is Cam."

Cam snorts at the names, clearly indicating that 'Cam' is an alias. Alaska is a bit freaked out by Satan's attention and the way his eyes roam over her. She grasps the hem of Spencer's shirt for comfort.

"She's an added bonus, eh?" Cam offers with a grin.

"Absolutely." Satan laughs. "We couldn't have planned a better timing."

"They were so busy going at it that they didn't notice me come in."

Satan gives the agent a disgusted look before turning his unwanted attention back to Alaska. "You could do so much better, babe." He tells her.

Spencer surveys what the small conversation gave him: insight to the UnSubs' lives. Satan is the dominant one, and they'd originally been after him, but didn't let Alaska ruin their plan. That shows how willing they are to take risks to get what they want. It was a thought out plan, too- they found his home, knew the back was the best escape, and took them somewhere very secluded. They've made so many slip ups though. They never searched either for weapons or phones, let them see the whole ride there, led them openly through the house- it's a bit ridiculous. Spencer can't help but shudder. The only explanation for letting captives see so much is if the plan is to never let them escape.

"What did I do to you to justify this?" Spencer asks, voice surprisingly steady.

Satan steps forward until he's right in the agent's face, his gun pointed at his heart, before he answers. "You're a monster."

"Why do you think that?"

"I don't think it," Satan chuckles humorlessly, "I know it."

"But, why?"

The man's free hand forms a tight fist before swinging down and burying itself into Spencer's gut. Then, it swings again before he can catch his breath, hitting his jaw. Reid holds his tough exterior, despite the protests his body wants to make. The lack of reaction doesn't sit well with Satan, though. It fuels his anger, and he sends a few more well aimed hits into the agent. Alaska bites her tongue, knowing her words won't help the situation. When Spencer is pulled away by his hair, and thrown across the room, she gasps.

"Stop." She whimpers. It goes unanswered, but Spencer registers the fear in her voice. Satan puts his gun down the back of his waistband, Cam keeping his own weapon steadily aimed on the woman.

Satan kicks Spencer in the ribs before he can get up, and he lets out a groan as his body rolls to the other side. His phone slips out of his pocket due to the sudden motion. Curiously, Satan picks it up. Rage distorts his features and he turns to his accomplice.

"Do you realize what you've done?" He yells. Cam stares at the phone, face paling.

"The FBI can trace phones, you idiot." Satan takes the battery out and throws the phone's exterior against the wall so hard it shatters. Spencer's heart shrinks a bit. Without the phone, he has less of a chance of being found. Satan goes up to Alaska and pats her down, searching for another phone. His search comes up empty, and Alaska's facial expression is nothing short of disgust.

"Get away from me." She seethes.

"Do you not like me this close?" Satan taunts, coming closer, his hands settling on her waist, then moving back and downwards to grab her ass. Spencer gets to his feet, ignoring the gun pointed at him, and moves to rescue Alaska. She doesn't need his help, though- her knee comes up swiftly, making contact with Satan's groin. Spencer grabs her arm and tugs her behind him as Satan growls and throws a blind punch. It misses his target as she's pulled away.

"Let's give the kiddies some privacy and set up our room." Cam offers. The look on his face is one of boredom. They leave, thankfully, and Spencer hears the sound of many locks being put in place from the outside.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asks, turning to the shaking girl who is clutching onto his shirt. She nods rapidly, though they both know it's a lie. His arms lift, offering her a way to be closer and a sense of protection that Alaska desperately needs. He awkwardly lowers his arms once she's close, and they slip around her like a safety net.

"What are they gunna do to us?" She asks, her voice muffled a bit due to the way her face is nuzzled into his neck. One of her legs link with his. This kind of affection isn't something Spencer is familiar with.

"They're not going to hurt you. I won't let them."

It calms her down a bit; her grip loosens and her breathing becomes regular. He knows he shouldn't have made that promise- he has no control of the situation.

If their hands were free, they might have a better chance. Reid knows trying to get his hands out is useless, but he tries anyway. He can't just sit and not do anything. Spencer's running through ways to escape, his mind absently registering the way Alaska's eyes are dulling and her body is going limp.  
"Sleep, I'll wake you if they come back." He promises. She nods and falls asleep to the sound of his heartbeat and rugged breaths.

CMCMCM

At the BAU, the team is close to panicking.

"I can't find his phone's signal." Garcia says.

"Did you run the plates he texted me? He said it's a dark blue van." Hotch sighs.

Garcia types quickly, biting her lip. "It's a vehicle that was reported missing over a week ago."

"The UnSub knows what he's doing." Rossi says.

"Why Reid and Alaska? Who was the main target?"

"My guess would be Reid. Alaska leads a squeaky clean life. No criminal record, nice job- oh, well, she lost her job a week ago. She quit, actually. The report here says her boss is under review for inappropriate behavior."

"The guy could've wanted revenge." Morgan shrugs.

"Get us a name, number, and address. We'll check it out. In the mean time, keep digging into Alaska's life."

"Yes sir. His name's Charles Hough, number and address have been sent."

"While JJ and I go visit Charles, I want the rest of you to investigate Reid's apartment, then Alaska's. Garcia, send them her address. We don't know where they were abducted from."

"On it." Garcia chirps. She's doing her best to stop thinking that it's her Junior G-Man that's in danger. She's telling herself it's someone else, coincidentally named Spencer Reid. Someone else, coincidentally with that name, and coincidentally works in the FBI and looks a ton like her Reid. Coincidences happen, right?

CMCMCM

"The door's been picked." Rossi observes. Reid's door has been left wide open.

"Well, we found our abduction site." Prentiss nods, leading the way into the threshold. It's a bit on the messy side- dishes in the sink, books laying around, but nothing that suggests a struggle.

"Why would our boy have gone quietly?" Morgan asks, trying to think like Reid.

"He was either held at gunpoint, or Alaska was-" Prentiss starts, before walking in the bedroom. "Or, y'know, they both were."

Rossi and Morgan join her in the bedroom. They wish they didn't know what must've been going on before the UnSub came or just moments before, but it's obvious. The sheets are draped across the bed, a condom wrapper is crumpled at the bottom, and clothes are tossed on the ground.

"If these are Reid's clothes, does that mean…" Rossi implies.

Morgan shakes his head. "He probably has different clothes on. Alaska must be dressed, though. There aren't any feminine articles laying around."

"We need to see if there are any surveillance cameras around the perimeter." Prentiss says, strolling out. Her mind is a bit clouded though. Never before has she thought of Dr. Spencer Reid to be a sexually active person.

Sure enough, a camera is in the hallway, right outside the agent's door.

"I'm assuming there's a back way out of here." Rossi states, moving past Prentiss and down a small flight of stairs. There is a back door, and a camera also trained on it.

"Let's get the footage then." Morgan says. "Let's catch the bastard."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 **Warning: Mature material: includes rape. This story correlates with the episode "Scared to Death," in Season 3. **

"How long has it been?" Alaska asks when she wakes. Her wide eyes search Spencer's for comfort. Funny how being kept in a room with someone by maniacs can sure make you closer.

"Few hours." He answers. Reid lifts his arms and untangles himself from the girl so he can pace the small room. "I just don't get what Cam said…about setting up their room."

"Why does it matter?"

"It goes against the profile I'm making."

"What's the profile so far?"

"Satan is the dominant one. He gave us the aliases, and his attitude suggests it. But at the same time, Cam is running it all. He abducted us, well, unless it was under Satan's command… but, anyway, he stood back in the room and let Satan rough me up. He also let Satan ridicule him when he found my phone. Then he turns it all around and practically orders Satan out of the room when he was about to hurt you… I'm thinking Cam is the mind of the operation. Maybe he abducted us because he didn't trust Satan to… Hardly ever do teams work out as equals."

"What else can you figure out?" Alaska asks, her head cocked to the side as she absorbs it all.

"Well, we can't tell if their sadists; they haven't really hurt us yet. Unless- unless they're working for someone."

"Like, they have a boss whose behind this?"

"That would explain why Satan said I'm a bad person and got so upset when I questioned him," Spencer theorizes, rambling on and on, "He didn't tell me why I'm a monster because he doesn't know. He's just following orders, and can't think for himself. Maybe that's why he's such a pissed off person to begin with- he lives under a tight watch. Them being henchmen would also be why they didn't care if we see where we are; maybe we won't be staying here long."

"As in, we're gunna die?"

"Not necessarily. We could be moved to a better location. Switch vehicles and take better precautions."

"Or they're just idiots who don't know how to play the bad guy very well…"

Reid gives a chuckle and grins at Alaska. She's sitting cross legged on the floor, yanking at her handcuffs. "Stop, you'll hurt yourself."

"All we need to get this off is lubricant, right? They have to slip off somehow." Her eyes look to where his phone is smashed before she crawls over and searches through the pieces.

Spencer takes a bit longer than he should to catch onto what she's implying.

"Blood is not a good way to go, though." It is, actually, but Spencer really doesn't want to watch her cut into her skin a million times.

"Well, I refuse to spit on myself." She grimaces. He makes a face too and walks over to her.

"Don't. They'll put new ones on you anyway. It won't help us. Comply until I get a better profile."

"How can a profile save us, Spence?"

"You learn how they work; it's like picking a lock. Find out how they think, and you'll find out how to talk them down. No one will get hurt."

"So you can hope." Alaska pouts, setting down the sharp plastic. She hadn't wanted to do it, really, but sitting around is driving her nuts. The sound of dead bolts being pulled open has them both hurrying over to the corner once more. Cam walks in alone this time, his gun ready for any sudden attacks.

"I wanted to have a little talk with you lovely doctors." He says. The man's voice is so calm that it sends chills down Alaska's spine. When neither captive responds, he continues. "Tonight, you will behave. That way no one gets hurt, and it's a fair trade off."

"Trade off?" Spencer questions.

"An old friend of yours is coming to get you. You remember a certain Dr. Goodman, don't you?"

Spencer takes a long moment to think back to all the cases he's worked on. "Barry Goodman? Aka Stan Howard? But- he's dead. He jumped off a building, I watched it."

"Yep. Jessie decided to finally take action and finish what her father started, all with how it ended- the BAU."

"His adopted daughter, Jessica?"

"The eidetic memory is remarkable." Cam muses. "You guys shut his business down how many years ago? Six?"

Reid nods, not sure if he's really supposed to answer. Alaska is left blissfully unaware of what they're talking about.

Spencer wants to ask Cam a million more questions, but the door opens again, revealing Satan. He throws two bottles of water at the couple on the floor before leaning down to whisper to Cam, who drops his gun and turns his attention to his partner.

"She agreed?"

"Yeah, man. You should be stoked."

"I want no part of it." Cam says, face twisting up in disgust.

"Suit yourself."  
There is silence in the room. Spencer nods the okay to Alaska when she looks between him and her water. They both drink small amounts, unsure if they should ration it.

"Princess, come with me." Satan says. Cam doesn't look happy with whatever is planned.

"Just, why?" Cam asks, saving Alaska time to put down her water and clutch onto Spencer's arm. It's difficult to do with handcuffs on, but she wants to know she's got this brilliant FBI agent to protect her.

"Cause I can." The other man laughs. He walks closer to the captives and crouches. "C'mon, babe. We only have until tonight."

Spencer moves in between them, determination etched in his expression. He got Alaska into this mess and he had no intention of letting it get any worse. The earlier incident has clued Reid into what the man wants with Alaska, and he'll do anything in his power to prevent it.

"Move it, agent." Satan sneers.

"Over my dead body." He hisses. Alaska winces at his poor choice of words.

Though the punch was anticipated, it sure didn't hurt any less. The fist was like steel as it cut up from his jaw. His weight falls back onto Alaska, who shrieks. More fists fly, and she can't stand it. Spencer can't fight back while cuffed, not that he'd stand much of a chance regardless.

"I'll go. Just stop."

"NO." Spencer shushes her. It's too late though, Alaska has already moved around him and Satan has her by her hair. She's pulled roughly out of the room. Reid clumsily gets to his feet, trying to follow after, but Cam stops him when he pushes the barrel of his gun into his chest. "You don't see anything right with this either."

Cam shrugs to the agent's words, as if indifferent.

They stand like that in a tense silence for a few minutes before the screams start. Cam backs out of the room, warning Spencer that him fighting will just make it worse on her. When the door is shut and bolted, he paces.

Think, think, think, he scolds himself, you're a genius for god's sake!

His eyes roam the around the tight space and land on the sharp plastic. He goes to it, silently cursing Alaska for being right. Blood is the perfect lubrication he has.

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Meanwhile, Alaska can't see anything past her tears. She's somewhat thankful for her lack of vision. No way does she want to see the man on top of her or his sick enjoyment. She had an idea of what he wanted with her, and when he ripped her clothes apart with his knife, it was a solid confirmation. Off with her shirt and jeans. What a shame- she just bought them both only a few days ago.

For some reason, he drops the knife to the ground carelessly and undoes her bra himself. She uses the timing to her advantage and tries for another groin shot. It's a no-go though, he pins her legs down with his own, easily. Alaska doesn't stop fighting though, not even when he slides her underwear down to her ankles and forces her legs open.

"Stop it, you monster!" She screams. A backhanded slap is the only response to everything she says.

The burn of his success is what kills her the most. It's nothing good like what sex has always been to her before. This is cruel, painful, and humiliating. His eyes are on her like superglue; she can feel them. He even has the dignity to wipe at her tears and force kisses onto her cheeks where they've stained her skin. It's all such a feigned kind of intimacy that she briefly wonders what this makes him. Surely, a sadist? Will this help Spencer with his damn profile?

When he's done, and she's completely deflated, her underwear is pulled up for her. She puts her bra on and stares at her other clothes. They're nothing but ruined pieces of cloth. Her eyes glare at him with so much hatred that he's happy. Satan has picked the knife up from the floor and is rotating it in his hands.

"It could've been so much worse, Princess." With that said, he turns and leaves, her hurrying behind him. She wants to be back with Spencer more than anything in the world.

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Biting back a yelp, Spencer watches the blood well up to the surface of his skin. He goes for a deeper cut this time on the opposite end of his wrist. It works better, and the blood comes at a faster pace.

He smears it around, biting his tongue and pretending Alaska's screams aren't horrific. Reid is doing this all for her. If these henchmen are so cruel, he doesn't want to know what Jessica Howard is like.

The cuff slides off and he sighs. Thank goodness the worst part is over. He positions himself crouched by the door when he hears the locks move. His heart is racing so fast that his ears are pounding with the vibration.

When the door opens, he tackles, ignoring the gun. It's pointed at a person's normal height, which he predicted. Attacking from a low point was the smart thing to do. It's Cam that gets knocked to the ground. The captor was knocked so harshly to the floor that his head cracked off of it, knocking him unconscious. Satan and Alaska are just to his left; he can hear Satan's malicious voice.

Reid pulls the gun away from Cam and aims at Satan just as the man walks out of the room. When it fires, the man goes down. Alaska stares, wide eyed at the man on the floor. He's bleeding heavily from his abdomen. So heavily, that it's splashed at her feet.

"Come on!" Spencer calls. He's unsure of how hard Cam has hit his head and he's not willing to wait around to see how long he's down. The agent looks around for keys to the van, but can't locate them. Maybe they're already in the ignition? The couple run to the front door, but it's stuck. Dammit.

"What's wrong?" Alaska asks.

"I don't know." Spencer freaks, pulling at it like a maniac. His mind flashes back to the broken window in the living room. "This way!"

They crawl through, avoiding the worst of the broken glass.

"Now what?" Alaska wonders, her voice choked with sobs. She's trying to be strong but her body is aching, almost as bad as her mind. Spencer finally takes notice to her lack of clothing and undoes the buttons on his dress shirt. She thanks him with a blush then follows as he goes down the porch steps and surveys the area.

The woods will contain big obstacles, he knows. It's noisy, as well as polluted with animals, poison ivy, and it's the most predictable route to go.

"The cornfield." He decides. They sprint into it, not stopping, even when they hear front door of the house be forced open and angry yells. Reid is unnerved by the feeling of the gun in his hands. It's too light.

Spencer opens the chamber to the pistol and groans. He'd used the only bullet during their escape. Here in the cornfield, with no sense of direction or a weapon, they're as good as sitting ducks.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Hello, Mr. Hough. I'm SSA Aaron Hotchner, this is SSA Jennifer Jureau. We're with the FBI's Behavior Analysis Unit."

"FBI?" The man repeats, his face scrunching up.

"Yes sir, may we come in and ask a few questions?"

"What is this about, agents?"

"Dr. Alaska Michaels-" Aaron starts.

"The bitch was lying! I never-"

"SIR- stop. We're not here about that. She went missing and we are looking for insight to her life." JJ interrupts.

Charles Hough steps aside and ushers the agents in. They come to a small living area, where Hotchner asks several questions. JJ observes his every move, trying to decipher if he's telling the truth. The man has an alibi- he was home with his family. His daughters and wife can attest to it. What really struck Aaron as strange was how Hough spoke of Alaska. It was as if he was afraid of her.

Well, he tells himself, she is the cause of him being evaluated and possibly losing his job.

To make matters even stranger, the agents notice that when Mrs. Hough enters the room, Charles recoils; much like a bad kid waiting to be scolded. The dominance in the household was evident. It's just as his wife is asking what's going on that his cell phone beeps. He apologizes and takes the call, glad for some kind of news.

"Hotch." Aaron greets, snapping his phone open.

"We reviewed all the footage. They were taken at 12:13 am." Prentiss says.

"I'll meet you in the round room." He states, hanging up. He bids farewell to Charles Hough, Alaska's past employer and hurries to his SUV. Hotch has no doubt in his mind that Mr. Hough has no part in this. The man is a nervous type of guy who gets bossed around by his wife and teenagers. He has no dominance that'd be needed in order to kidnap a federal agent- especially one as wordy and sophisticated as Reid.

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"What'd you find?" The unit chief asks when he enters the room.

"They were abducted at Reid's. Lock was picked. We searched all security footage around the building for that night, and we found this." Rossi explains, then turns to the computer. Garcia plays the footage of a guy crouched in front of Reid's apartment, picking the lock. He's dressed in all black and the ski mask keeps them from getting an identification. Once the door is opened, they fast forward through the ten minutes of nothing.

When another person steps into the hallway, it's Reid. He heads down the hallway with Alaska and the man behind them, a gun pointed to Alaska's head. Garcia switches cameras so they can see the captives being put in the back of the van before it speeds off.

"What can we gather from that?" Hotch sighs.

"White male, barely taller than Reid, which makes him 6'2. Leverage was a gun, lead them into a dark blue van, which was reported missing a long time ago. We have no links." Morgan says.

"Well, he didn't bind them." Prentiss points out. "So, either he trusts them not to do something stupid or see the location, or they're horrible at kidnapping."

"Or just confident that it doesn't matter." Rossi shrugs.

"Okay, Garcia?" Hotch calls. Her face pops up on the computer screen. "I need you to go back further in the footage. See if the UnSubs had visited the site earlier. They must've been somewhat familiar with the place; they knew where the back door and Reid's door was."

"How far back, exactly?"

"Review it for the days we were just out on a case for, then if there's nothing, keep going farther."

"Yes, sir."

They watch the computer tech vanish from the screen and they stare at one another for a moment.

"Nothing good on Charles Hough?" Rossi asks. Hotch fills them in on his home lifestyle and complete submission to his wife. They're all dissatisfied. Nothing like this should happen. A federal agent shouldn't be so easily kidnapped.

"What took the UnSub ten minutes in the apartment? Did he and Reid fight?" JJ wonders.

"Well," Morgan starts, a ghost of a smile on his face, "You see, he and Alaska were _busy._ Condom wrapper and messed up bedroom confirm it."

"That's one way of catching someone off guard." Hotch responds. "I think now we should look deeper. Prentiss, help JJ go through old files. Look into ones where Reid played a big part in the take down. Rossi, go ask Kevin Lynch to help us out. Search for any past criminals who've gotten out of lock up. Morgan, let's go check out Alaska's place since you guys didn't get to it."

"Why?" Morgan argues. "It was an attack on Reid; they got them at his house."

"Not necessarily. It could all be linked back to her somehow."

With nothing left to say, the team breaks up in hopes to find their genius.

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"I can't keep running." Alaska gasps. Her sides are cramped and running is difficult without proper pants on. The cornstalks keep ripping away at her skin. She's thankful that Satan had forgotten to put her handcuffs back on- he'd taken them off as soon as they left the room before it happened.

"Let's sit for a minute." Spencer agrees. They flatten down some cornstalks and sit to catch their breath. It's midday, he can tell because the sun is at it's highest point in the sky. Unlucky for them. Even with his lack of a shirt, he's still smothering in the heat.

"You followed through with my plan." Alaska chuckles. He follows her line of sight to his bloodied hand and nods.

"I didn't have a better solution." The other handcuff is still in place and it jingles with every movement. It now strikes him that it could be a problem. It's the equivalent of having a collar with a bell on it.

"Wanna talk the language of profilers?"

Spencer wrings his hands. He doesn't want to talk about what trauma she just went through for the most selfish of reasons. He just can't bare the thought of that man feeling her the way he has.

"He was careless. Left a knife on the floor, uncuffed me, and paid no attention to my screams." Alaska says, ignoring Spencer's silence. "Satan cut my clothes to shreds with a knife and over powered me. Is that a sadist?"

"No."

"What do you mean, 'no'?" Had what happened to her not been enough?

"He wasn't feeding off your pain, he did it for his own pleasure. Satan isn't a sadist because he didn't torture you, or speak, or even rub it in my face. He's categorized as a rapist."

Alaska swallows any bitter remarks of how it seemed sadistic enough to her, and plainly asked, "Find anything out about Cam?"

"Well, he talked to us. Explained a bit. He's definitely the brains, and they're both henchmen."

"Who was Dr. Howard?"

"The man was sick. He set up a fake building and claimed he could help people over come their phobias. In one year, he killed at least fifteen people in numerous ways. We found his last victim before she died, but he jumped off a building. His daughter, Jessica, was adopted by him and his wife for the sake of forming a family in his mind. His mother's abuse caused his irrational thinking, and her death was the stressor."

"You sure remember a lot about a case that's six years old."

"Eidetic memory."

"Oh, yeah." Alaska grins. "But why would Jessica target you, specifically?"

"Weakest link?" He shrugs. "What doesn't make sense is the fact that she's only sixteen, maybe seventeen. How can someone so young have power over guys like Cam and Satan? Is money really that powerful to them?"

Alaska is about to answer when they both hear running feet. They look at each other for a moment, and she's ready to bolt. Spencer calms her down though and motions for her to move forward slowly and quietly. They weave through cornstalks and Reid holds onto his handcuffs so they don't make sound. He pushes the gun into her hands so she has some kind of weapon; loaded or not, it'll still crush a skull.

A second too late, Spencer notices a sound coming from in front of him. While Cam grabs Alaska from behind, a bigger man punches Spencer unconscious. Her scream is loud enough to be heard a long distance away, but it lands to deaf ears among the trees, cornstalks, and birds of the abandoned estate.

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Morgan gives a low whistle. Alaska's place is _nice_. High ceilings, tall book cases, stone fireplaces, and acute décor. Everything's spotless.

"She takes a lot of pride in her home." Hotch voices. They move from room to room, looking for anything to help them profile Alaska.

"Not many family photos." Morgan observes. He picks up one in particular and stares for a minute. "She doesn't have a kid, does she?"

"What makes you say that?"

Aaron takes a look at the photograph in his co worker's hands. It's of Alaska, dressed in a hospital gown and laying in a bed, a gentlemen around her age, and a baby bundled in Alaska's arms. The photo radiates an aura of love. If you'd search Aaron Hotchner's house, you'd most likely find an identical picture from when Jack was born.

"We'll have to ask Garcia to look into it." Aaron says, deciding to move on. If she is a mother, surely there'd be a child's toys around. They don't find any, though. It seems like she lives alone- no TV, a single bedroom, one bathroom, no child friendly stuff around. They surveyed everything from her wardrobe, to her trash, to her décor, to her refrigerator's contents.

"Do you think her kid was taken away from her?" Morgan asks. The situation makes no sense to him either. "I mean, even if Jack was taken away from you, or he died in an accident, you'd still keep his things."

Aaron nods. "A parent can't just move-on like this."

Beeping fills their silence, and Morgan answers it, hoping for good news or sorts. "Yeah, Baby Girl?" He turns the phone on speaker so Hotch can hear as well.

"I searched through a ton of footage. The night you guys were away on the last case, a guy lingers around Reid's hallway. Creepy part? He just looks to see the layout and leaves, through the front doors, to a tan car. Two other people are in the vehicle, I can't clear the image to see who, but I did search the license plate."

"What'd you find?"

"It belongs to a Liam Ritz, address and number have been sent to your GPS."

"Tell us about him, Garcia." Hotch says as they head to their SUV. They lock up Alaska's house, having got in through finding a spare key under the stairs outside.

"He fit's the description of the masked guy. Caucasian, 6'2, also has blonde hair. You have a picture on your tablets if you want to see for yourselves. Currently a manager at a chain of tobacco companies. Nasty. He was adopted at age twelve, closed adoption, and his new family lives in Illinois. No family around here."

"Thank you, m'lady."

"Just find Reid already." She sighs, hanging up briskly.

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Liam Ritz, aka Cam, is currently staring into pits of angry brown eyes.

"I can't believe you let that happen." Jessica hisses.

"I didn't let anything happen." He argues.

"They almost escaped!" She shouts. Liam shuts up and watches them load the unconscious agent and the kicking girl into the trunk of the car. A very tight squeeze, but it works; both captives are small people.

"Can he be trusted, Jess?" Liam asks, motioning to the big, burly man that had helped out in the corn field.

"Absolutely. Cole hates law enforcement just as much as I hate the BAU." She steps closer, her eyes still fueled with rage. "My father was a good man. He did no harm by running his business. All of the people he killed, were _weak_."

"Is revenge worth it?" He mutters, watching now as Cole throws Satan's, aka Tristan's, body into the captive's holding place. Blood is still dripping from the fatal wound.

"Well, worth it or not, you get his money too." Jessica states, tossing the bills to him. "I expect you to keep quiet."

"Yes, ma'am." He answers as the dead bolt is turned one final time. He can't help but think how his friend will never walk out of that house again.


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry this is short! I have sooo much crap to do this week, it's ridiculous. Next week's updates will be few, if any, because I'm going on vacation. My deepest apologies! Please review if you're enjoying it so far! **

Chapter 9

When Reid wakes up, the first thing he notices is the woman. Unsurprising, considering the fact that her face is mere inches away from his own. It startles him into jerking away. The motion is useless, he's backed up into a corner.

"Hello, Dr. Reid." She says. Her hand reaches up to caress his jaw, where a violent pain begins to grab his attention. The pain brings with it memories of him and Alaska being captured…yet again.

"Jessica?"

She grins when he says her name. It came out too weak and too uncertain. The way her eyes light up with a dark happiness is worrisome. It means that things are going her way, and also not in the favor of the agent or his partner.

"What do you want with us?" Spencer makes his voice steady this time when he speaks.

"Do you remember my father?"

The question doesn't phase him like he knows she'd hoped. "Of course."

"Why is that?"

"I have an eidetic memory."

"No." The response is calm yet vicious. Her face moves back and he looks at her properly. Jessica seems to be a typical girl; a beautiful one to say the least. The shape of her face is a soft oval, her cheekbones set high, blue gems neatly rounded in black eye liner so they draw attention, and her hair is soft straw that flows down to her chest. She's so appealing that the way she's dressed seems silly. Someone with her looks would be in style, or at least, trendy. Jessica is dressed in faded jeans and a loose black shirt, dirt covering the front of it.

"What's not understandable?" Spencer asks.

"I understand your shitty excuse just fine." Jessica states. The blonde moves away from him so he can focus on the room surrounding them. It's oddly sterile. White is the word to best describe it; the tiles on the floor are white linoleum, and the walls are patterns of white swirls that match the ceiling. The color keeps the room seemingly bright despite the single caged window at the other end of the room. Alaska lays in front of it, her hand connected to the cage by handcuffs. "But it's not why. You remember him because of the age you were. Early twenties, right?"

Spencer just nods while he thinks. The door is just to his left, but he doesn't dare bolt for it. She could be hiding a gun, or someone could be standing guard out there. No way did this teenager drag him and Alaska here by herself.

"You remember him because you were old enough for it to take hold. I lost him when I was eleven. Eleven. That man's face is slowly fading from me every second because I was too young then to know the importance of memorizing it. I didn't know he'd be ripped away from me the way he was."

"His victim's families didn't know they'd be ripped away either-"

"NO." She yells. The profiler charts her every reaction for later observation. "Their families had a chance to say goodbye! They'd all moved far away, choosing to say goodbye to their families before they even met my father. He didn't have a choice in his departure."

"Yes he did. He committed suicide, Jessica." Reid says.

"You. Backed. Him. Into. A. Corner." The girl's voice has turned eerily calm once more. Spencer doesn't dare add to her anger, so he keeps his mouth shut. The silence brings a smile to her lips. "The BAU gets to feel what I felt. What I still feel, even now. They get to know what it's like to lose someone important. I call it karma. And you know what else is karma?"

Spencer shakes his head when he realizes she wants an answer.

"I'm going to help you. I'm going to show you how my father was right to do what he did. All those people were helped because of him. They over came their fears. He'd helped me over come mine, and I should've thanked him. A fear is nothing but a weakness."

"How are you going to help me, exactly?"

Jessica kneels next to Alaska and brushes her hair from her face like a mother would for her daughter. Spencer bites his tongue because Alaska's still alive, he can see her chest take in and expel air. Who knows how long it will be until Jessica decides killing her is the best thing to do?

"I'm going to help the both of you face your fears."

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The agents of the BAU enter Liam Ritz's apartment expecting the worst; blood covering the walls, photos scattered like the work of a stalker, deadly weapons lined up, ect. They did not expect the spotless, innocent home they found.

"Clear!" Prentiss says, holstering her gun.

"Clear!" Hotch yells from rooms away.

"Clear." Morgan confirms, meeting up with them in the living area. "Something's not adding up."

"A killer should be obsessing. He staked out Reid's home. It wasn't random; there should be something here that reminds him as to why he did it all." Prentiss agrees.

"Let's look around, maybe Ritz is just good at hiding things."

They're splitting up when a van pulls in the driveway. The exact, stolen van that they have footage of taking Reid.

"What the hell?" Liam voices, eyeing the three agents coming out of his home. They seem to mean business- velkar vests on, guns at the ready, and grim looks on their faces.

"Liam Ritz?" Morgan asks.

Liam nods and looks over to the van. He knows the odds aren't good at the moment, so he keeps his mouth shut as he's handcuffed and hulled in to the police station. The money Jessica gave him feels like it's burning a hole in his skin.

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Once the door shut behind Jessica, Reid listens for locks. He hears about three. His mind plays back the confrontation and picks out small things. Though her shirt was dirty, her hands were scrubbed clean. The room is completely sterile, and Jessica didn't touch him other than the bruise on his face and her fingers had brushed Alaska's hair. Could she have a slight case of OCD?

Spencer put his thought process aside and goes across the room to sit next to Alaska. He moves her so her head is resting against his thigh and holds her hand, rubbing circles into it to calm himself more so than her.

It's while he's doing this that his eyes find where the sleeve of the shirt he'd given her had been shoved back. A small drop of dried blood is resting at the point where her elbow is. He reaches out and wipes it away, seeing a dot. It indicates that she'd been drugged. Spencer swallows hard, his mind reeling. It's been awhile since his body has craved dilaudid. Seeing the recent track mark on Alaska's arm has managed to bring a wave of desire crashing over him like old times.  
Reid takes his mind away from it by looking down at himself. His t-shirt and pants are doing much of a job at keeping him warm. He can only imagine how cold Alaska must be feeling. The agent's face flushes a little when he looks at her once more. The shirt is ridden up a bit, so it stops just at the waistband of her black underwear. He knows what the matching black bra looks like because when he last took serious notice of the garments, Alaska was kissing him and panting into his neck with excitement.

She stirs, as if his thoughts had called to her, and he shakes his head to shoo them away. It's a completely inappropriate situation to think of sex. He may as well expunge the thought from passing through his mind ever again; Alaska was raped. Even if they survive this, she'll never be the same. She may forgive what happened to her someday, but she'll never forget it.

"Spence?" Her tired voice calls. He knows how she must be feeling. He's come down from drug highs way too many times before.

"Right here." He whispers.

"Where are we?"

"In a room, locked away by a psychopath's adopted daughter."

The bluntness of his response makes Alaska giggle. Her ridiculous laughter is more than likely due to the drugs, but Spencer laughs along with her after a moment of bewilderment. He's miserable, and tired, and hungry beyond belief, but it's just hilarious for the time being. It's hilarious that something this bad happens to someone who prizes in being among the do-gooders of the world. It's even funnier that Dr. Alaska Michaels is here along with him; it adds to the 'bad situation' factor by a million. If he were alone, he wouldn't care if he's hurt. He'd have given up or he'd be doing better things. He'd be thinking clearer. But here she is- giving him thousands of distractions and worries because he likes her more than he should.

"Fuck the world." Alaska says, a smile ghosting over her face. Spencer leans down and encloses her lips with his briefly.

"Yes," He agrees, sitting back once more, "fuck the world."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds, but, I do, however, own Alaska Michaels. This story references Season 3, episode entitled "Scared to Death". I recently re-wrote the summary and edited the format in the past chapters. Sorry, this is short but it's better than nothing and fixing all my past errors took a good chunk of time. R&R!**

"I'm only going to ask you this one more time- where is Dr. Reid and Dr. Michaels?" Hotch asks. While his tone and appearance are completely professional, his inner self is picturing slamming this young man's face into the interrogation table. It's been nearly half an hour so far and yet Liam Ritz won't fess up to anything. The huge wad of cash the agents had found in his pocket has done nothing but confirm Hotchner's suspicion that Ritz had been hired to kidnap Reid.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, agent."

"We have video of you getting out of this van." Hotch says, throwing down a picture of the van. "Days later, Dr. Reid and Dr. Michaels are forced into this van by a masked suspect. See my logic?" He throws down another picture, this one showing the captives being forced inside.  
Ritz stays silent.

"Right now, you're facing accessory to kidnapping a federal agent."

"I have an address. You need to go there." Ritz answers. His mind has wondered back to his friend Tristan for about the hundredth time that evening. The clock in the room says it's nearly two in the morning, so technically, he's been thinking of his friend all morning.

"Well, I'm listening." Hotch replies.

As Ritz tells it to them, he's trying not to give away any emotion. He shouldn't, he knows, but Tristan's family should be notified. They should know he was murdered and his body shouldn't be left in that house like trash. Even Liam Ritz, as horrible as it is, has morals.

He hadn't wanted Tristan to have his way with the female captive. Honestly, he didn't. He wanted a clean trade off- one involving little violence; or as little as possible, anyway.

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"Baby girl, do you happen to know if Alaska had an ex husband, or kid?" Morgan asks, hiding out in the bathroom so no one else hears. It could be nothing, he knows. The kid and man could be family members, and nothing more, but curiosity is killing the agent.

"No birth or divorce records showed up previously, but I'll look again." Garcia says, her tone interested and confused at the same time. "But what makes you think the doctor has a secret family?"

"No reason." Morgan says vaguely.

The technical analyst sighs. "No need to lie to me, stud. Oh, wow- I can confirm that Alaska took part in a closed adoption. She gave away a baby girl roughly a year and a half ago, the father's name isn't recorded. If you want, I can unseal the adoption files and find the family?"

"Yeah, we better explore every aspect." Morgan breathes. Hotch enters the bathroom at that moment and the younger of the two snaps his phone shut.

"We have an address. Did you find out anything from Garcia?"

"I'll tell you about it on the way."

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"I still don't understand why." Alaska mumbles. Spencer is twirling locks of her hair around his fingers to keep himself in motion. "Why do people find it fun to kidnap, murder, rape, or bring any harm to another human being?"

"I don't have that great of an answer." Spencer shrugs.

"Well, an answer from a genius is something. Let's hear it."

"I think they're hardwired wrong. There are studies that show how sadists, rapists, psychopaths, and narcissists have different brains than others. Different parts of their brains are more stimulated, or enlarged. Long story short- they're sick."

Alaska mulls over it for a moment. "Knowing why doesn't make this any easier."

"Sorry for disappointing."

A twitch of her lips gives him a bit of satisfaction, but it gets torn away when tears form in her eyes. She turns her head and tries to bury it in his side so he can't see the tears, but it's too late. The hurricane of emotions has finally hit her.

Dr. Michaels is horrified at what previously happened to her, angry that the sicko did it, humiliated that Spencer knows, and scarred beyond belief of what's in store for them now.

"Alaska…" He whispers, voice low and pitiful. "This is all my fault; I'm so sorry."

She's too upset to tell him off for blaming himself. Instead, she just cries and he lets her, knowing that if she'd hold it in any longer, she may burst. His hands rub circles on her leg and shoulder, somewhat surprised she hasn't pulled away or completely rejected affection from him.

"You know that what he did to you doesn't make you any less perfect, right?" Spencer asks once her sobs has turned to sniffles. Her brilliant eyes find his and shine sadly, recognizing his effort. "I'm serious. He can't ever take away how wonderful you are. I know, seeing how the first date with me went, you may not take my offer seriously, but when we get out of here, I'd be honored to give us another try."

A genuine smile lit up her face and Reid brushes away the few remaining tears. She sits up the best she can while her hand is still chained and hugs him, her head resting on his shoulder so his own head can find refuge in resting atop her's. They fall asleep like that; relying on each other to keep a piece of sanity in the sickness of their situation.

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"This place is creepy." JJ says, looking around. The address Liam Ritz had given them is far from livable condition. Windows are smashed and the roof's many holes leave the place under the mercy of mother nature.

Considering the clock on the Bureau's SUV is reading two thirty in the morning, the whole team is tired beyond belief. Knowing that one of their own could be suffering inside this house keeps them up and moving though.

"FBI!" Rossi yells. Morgan doesn't wait, he just steps up and kicks the door open. It flies off it's old hinges and the agents rush in.

Prentiss swings open the farthest door as her co workers call the surrounding area to be clear. Blood is smeared down the length of this hallway, and a big pool is gathered under this door. Her mind prepared her for many situations. One being an empty, normal room with small traces of blood. Two being the destination of which Reid and Alaska had last seen while alive. Three had been where they're being kept while badly wounded, and four had been a room covered in blood. None of those scenarios prepared her for the sight she got.

A clearly dead male lays there, circled by a pool of blood. His face seems to be frozen in rage, his eyes wide open and accusing.

"We got a body!" She calls.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 **I'll be back to uploading at least three times a week now :) Please R&R and thanks to everyone who has been so far. **

The team gets back to work after some much needed sleep. Hotch had decided they should rest up while the ME did his job, rather than drive themselves crazy with speculations. They meet at the police station to not only keep away from the BAU and the distractions it'd give, but to also keep the police involved.

Morgan, Prentiss, and JJ have just filled up their second cup of coffee and taken a seat as Garcia's face pops up on the laptop's screen. She lacks her usual shine because of her sleep deprivation- but that is expected. What's really got them all set back is the navy hoodie she's wrapped up in and her all-natural makeup style. This isn't the usual peppy analyst they've gotten to know.

"ME's report." The lead detective from the police says, bustling in and dropping the file in front of Hotchner. He's a much needed distraction for the agents. Looking at Penelope Garcia while she's minus her colorful self is too big of a change, especially when combined with Reid, or more specifically, the lack of.

"Okay, we're starting the day with a ton of new information. Morgan and I found out something interesting about Dr. Michaels, the ME's report is pretty solid, and Garcia has been looking into the house's history. Morgan, you can start it off." Hotch says, leaning forwards so that his elbows rest on the circular desk's surface. Rossi is behind him, sitting on a corner desk, and the younger subordinates are around the computer, eager for something new to investigate.

"When Hotch and I checked out Alaska's apartment, there was a picture of her, a baby, and a man. But it wasn't just some relatives; she was in a hospital gown, and clearly spent. Baby girl looked into her past and found that Alaska gave up a baby for a closed adoption a year and a half ago." Morgan tells.

JJ's eyes practically bulge from her head. "The father is-?"

Garcia jumps into the conversation with her new findings, "He was named Cayden Pritts. 'Was' is the verb I choose because he committed suicide three months after the adoption was sealed. Coincidentally enough, Alaska moved to her current address just weeks earlier, which is on the other side of Virginia from where she lived before. It looks as though his daughter being given away and Alaska moving sent him over the edge."

"Did you sleep at all last night, Mama?"

"Of course not, baby cakes. Those adoption records weren't going to unseal themselves. Dr. Michael's baby was given to Mr. and Mrs. Holden; they're both in their late thirties with jobs in the medical field. Address, pictures, and other contact info is being sent to your handhelds- now."

"Can you tell us about Alaska's daughter?" Prentiss asks.

"Of course. Willow Holden is an average baby, if not one of the cutest. She's the Holden's only child and may I just add my opinion that she has a ridiculously close resemblance to her mother."

"Next piece of information is from the ME." Hotch says, his eyes down on the report. "Tristan Brinker was killed by a single gun shot to the abdomen, which caused him to bleed out. No defensive wounds, so he was either compliant or shot by surprise. His fists are bruised a bit, presumably caused by a fight that occurred before his death. In a room down the hall, evidence links him to engaging in sexual acts. Garcia, look into him."

"You got it." She follows orders as the next piece of news is read off.

"CSI found Reid's smashed phone in the same room as Brinker's body. Female clothing were also found along with Brinker's semen, suggesting the worst for Alaska." Everyone takes the following long pause to absorb it. Their co worker must be going through utter hell, and they still have no clue how to help.

"As for the house's history," Garcia sighs, "it's property up for sale. No one has bought it because of it's horrid condition, isolated location, and lack of charm. Past owners died."

"So, it's a random spot? Wouldn't a killer be a bit smarter than relying on a location they're unfamiliar with?" Rossi wonders.

"Unless it was a trade off." Hotch mumbles. "We have to explore all angles, and we have to do it quickly. Rossi and I will interrogate Ritz more, ask about his relation to Brinker, and explore the possibilities. Garcia- send us info on Brinker that'd be useful. Address, family, history; that kind of thing. Morgan and Prentiss, I want you to brainstorm how Alaska's ex boyfriend could be involved. He may be dead, but someone could be blaming her for it. That'd explain the direct attack Brinker perused in the house. JJ, go back to Quantico and check through old cases where Reid played a big part. Check family members of victims or criminals, then see if anyone suspicious has been let out recently."  
Everyone springs into action as soon as the orders are finished being given.

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The door to their room is thrust opened. The sound of the squeaky hinges is what awakens Spencer. It's Jessica; no surprise. She's dressed neater this time, in tight jeans and a low cut sweater. His hazel eyes look up to Jessica's blue ones. They remind him of icebergs he used to read about as a kid- how beautiful they seem with their color and varying shapes, but how they're as equally dangerous. They can break in an instant without warning.

It's that comparison that has Dr. Reid treading lightly.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, you can, Doctor. Move her aside and follow me." Jessica's voice is so calm and smooth that he gets chills. He doesn't want to leave Alaska alone in this unfamiliar place, but on the other hand, he needs to know what Jessica really wants from him. Spencer's curiosity wins and gently gets to his feet, his precious date laying back and breathing steadily.

A gun is pulled out from the back of Jessica's waistband immediately. She motions him to the open door and he goes as fast as his clumsy feet allow. The sooner he gets the crazy girl with a gun away from Alaska, the better.

"Where are we going?" He breathes, his eyes flickering over the carpeted stairs. They lead them to a long hallway, resembling a hotel or hospital. All of the doors, he counts five on each sides, is shut tight.

"Keep walking." She says indifferently. At the end of the hall is a sign that stops the air from reaching Reid's lungs and has his heart slowing. It reads _Sanatorium_- a certain word that certainly sparks a hurricane in the young agent. It's one created of anxiety, bad memories, sadness, and certainly, fear.

"Walk. Further." Jessica growls, shoving the barrel of her pistol in his back. His feet pick up the pace once more, though his brain is still paused. If this truly is an abandoned sanatorium, God only knows what she could have planned. Her father had used an abandoned building and fixed it up as offices for his own twisted purposes.

Reid's told to stop when he reaches the third door of a new hallway. They'd passed an elevator, but yellow caution tape is used as a big X to cross it off. No windows have been visible so far to tell what floor they're on. He hopes this room they're about to enter will help.

It's nothing short of a janitor's closet, with the cleaning supplies and shelves ripped out. The smell of bleach has been left behind and locks have been put on from the outside. His brain, still working slow from his earlier shock, doesn't register her plans until he's already shoved inside by Jessica's small body and shut into the dark, the sound of bolts being put in place confirming the nightmare come true- he's surrounded by darkness.

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"Spence?" Alaska calls, not opening her eyes for a minute longer. She wants to absorb peace while it lasts. He doesn't answer her call though, so she snaps into awareness and looks around. The white room is empty, and she's still handcuffed to the caged window. Her arm's starting to go numb from being held up like that for so long. It's nothing though, compared to the numbness spreading through the young woman's chest. Spencer is no where to be seen and the sicko could've done anything to him.

"SPENCER!" She shouts. Dr. Michaels keeps at it for roughly fifteen minutes before determining she's not going to get an answer from anyone.  
She's scared, to say the least. For herself, for not having someone to protect or comfort her, and for the wonderful man she met a few days earlier because he's somewhere without her.

Her first fear begins to outweigh the other as the door's hinges give way and a blonde girl enters. She's nothing like what Alaska's mind had conjured up. This girl is pretty and dressed casually as opposed to sloppy with twisted features.

"Where is he?" Alaska gasps. The girl's calm is bringing about anxiety. Surely she this calmness means nothing good for Spencer.

"Facing a miniscule fear." Jessica answers. She sits down in the middle of the floor, pulling out her gun and tracing the bits of it with her fingers gingerly. "You see, you weren't part of the plan. I just wanted to show Dr. Reid and the BAU what happens when you mess with families as good as mine. Now that I have you, I can either get rid of you,-" the gun is pointed directly at Alaska's head. Her eyes widen automatically in surprise, "or, we can be productive."

"Productive how?" The words come out as a whisper because of the tightness of Alaska's throat. Her body isn't cooperating with her will to stay brave.

"We face your fear. What is it; a typical thing like spiders or snakes, or a scenario like drowning or being in the dark?"  
Alaska doesn't answer.

"Suit yourself." Jessica shrugs, clicking the safety off her gun.

"Snakes!" Alaska practically screams. "I'm afraid of snakes!"

The gleam in the blonde's eyes as she lowers the gun constricts the doctor's throat more. She should've stayed silent. She should've taken a bullet. Or, at the very least, she should've lied. Now this crazy girl knows her biggest fear and can use it against her.  
That's way more dangerous than a loaded gun.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12- **So, I had fun writing this chapter. Not exactly sure why, but just know it was written with a reckless sense of creativity. Probably a bad thing, right? R&R please! **

Spencer feels like he's drowning. It's as if the darkness is really a liquid that is too poisonous to his lungs to breathe in. His skin feels like it's on fire; he can't tell what's around him, and his mind is losing it's grip on sanity. He doesn't want to be here. He wants to be free, in the ridiculously white room because at least there he can see.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it." Reid chants, his breath coming in short pants. He hardly ever swears, but now seems like appropriate timing. His hands feel over the walls to feel their nothingness which does nothing but heighten his panic. Sure, the doctor with an IQ of 187 understands he's being childish, but that doesn't make him any less afraid.

Instead of seeing the blackness, he shuts his eyes and sits down, his back against the farthest wall. At least with his eyes closed, he feels that he has control over the lack of light. He knows what he must do- he must trick himself to feel light. Spencer uses his eidetic memory to think back to poems or literature speaking of light or sunshine and mutters it all under his breath at abnormal speed.

"'There is a crack in everything; that is how light gets in,' Leonard Cohen. 'It may be that you are not yourself luminous, but that you are a conductor of light. Some people without possessing genius have a remarkable power of stimulating it,' Arthur Conan Doyle. 'And the light shineth in darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it,' John 1, King James Version. 'Bodies have their own light which they consume to live: they burn, they are not lit from the outside,' Egon Schiele. 'Whether in the intellectual pursuits of science or in the mystical pursuits of the spirit, the light beckons ahead, and the purpose surging in our nature responds,' Arthur Stanley Eddington. 'May the sun come, it's a new day; In the pure land of fantasy; That our darkness enlightened,' Miguel Torga.-" Spencer interrupts his own rambling by shaking his head.  
His pulse is slowing back to normal and oxygen is coming back to him, no longer but poisonous, but painfully sweet. Reid's large mind thrusts the panic and remaining fear away and thinks around it.

Alaska is alone with Jessica. They're in a sanatorium. It seems to be abandoned. He doesn't have a weapon, phone, or advantage of any kind. Jessica somehow managed to find out of his fear of light- does that mean she has a source? How many people in the world honestly know about his fear for darkness, anyway? The team, of course. His mother, too.

His mind flashes back to the day at the office where he suffered humiliation- it happened less than a month prior-

_Spencer had just finished his business and zipped up the front of his pants. The bathroom reeks of cigarettes, telling him one of the people in the building were too stressed to make it outside without a smoke. _

_All of a sudden, the lights snap off. _

_A girly, high pitched shriek escapes Spencer's mouth before he can stop it, and his hands clamp over his mouth to keep the rest of his fear from exposing itself. _

_'It's just the automatic scanner.' he tells himself, looking up. Sure enough, when he goes toward where he knows it's located, and waves his hand close to it, the lights blink back on. _

_The bathroom door opens, revealing Morgan and a few other people crowding behind him. The agent's hand is at his gun, clearly expecting the worst. _

_"You okay, kid?" Morgan asks, clearly worried. _

_"The lights shut off." Spencer nods, his face flushing. The alarm his shriek caused embarrasses him for two reasons- one, it caused everyone to come to his rescue, and two, it was loud enough for them to hear from their desks. _

_"Your fear of the dark is ridiculous, man." Morgan laughs. Others laugh as well, moving away to get back to work now that they know it's safe. _

_"I'm not afraid, I was just startled." Spencer lies, face still flushed scarlet._

Spencer tries to think of all the people who came to the bathroom to check up on him with Morgan. Two janitors, Hotch, Rossi, a maintenance man, and some others who work in other sections; all of which could've just been walking by. No way can he shift blame to any of those familiar faces. Could word just have gotten around to Jessica's insight from those people? Or is there really a mole at the BAU?

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"How did you know about the body?" Hotch asks, serious and revealing no emotion to Liam Ritz. The young man seems to relax when Tristan's body is brought up in the conversation. He knows that Rossi is probably observing the same thing from his spot on the other side of the one-way window. His job is to watch for details Hotch may miss.

'Was it his end game?' Hotch wonders. That thought is unsettling to say the least- he needs Ritz to talk if he's to find the true purpose behind this man's death and kidnapping of his subordinate and Dr. Michaels.

"You wanted us to find the body," He says aloud when Ritz doesn't answer. "Why is that? Was he a friend of yours?"

"Sure, you could say that." Liam grins.

"There were two wads of cash in your pocket, Liam. Two grand in each. Was one of those supposed to go to Tristan?" Hotchner can see he's caught the young man off guard with the use of his friend's name. He'd expected them to work fast, but not fast enough to have identified the body already.

"Am I being charged with something, Agent? You can't hold me for over 72 hours if you can't charge me."

"I'm perfectly aware of that. We have 48 hours more, and there is plenty to charge you with."

"Oh, really?" Ritz smirks, knowing the agent is bluffing. "You can't place me at that house, or with your precious agent. All you have is me, getting out of a vehicle. Can't prove that I'm the one who abducted him."

"The van we found you driving was the get away car. That's all the evidence I need to convince a jury. You also lead us to a site where Dr. Michael's DNA was found, as well as a crushed mobile phone that belonged to our agent. You knew where they were. That means you probably know where they are right now, too. Combined with the top dollars in your pockets, I'd say you're nailed." Hotch says, returning the taunting smirk he'd been getting all day. With that being said, he gets up and heads towards the door.

"Wait, I'm willing to help you, Hotchner."

"Is that so?"

"Only if it gets me out of this. I'm not going to rat for nothing."

Hotch walks back to the table and leans in so he's towering over Ritz. "Tell me, everything. Now. This is your last chance to help yourself."  
Ritz licks his lips, feeling the weight of the agent's words.

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"I'm really not sure her ex has anything to do with this." Morgan sighs, flipping through pages of information Garcia had faxed over to the police station for them. It's like a biography of Cayden Pritts, and it tells them nothing but a sad man. He'd had a hard life- an alcoholic father and mother who gave up on him when he reached the age of fifteen.

"Me either. He has no real family that would want revenge. His parents are too distant from him to care. Hell; ten bucks says they didn't even attend their son's funeral." Prentiss agrees. She pities Pritts, but tries to think past it. "Could he have found a lover? Or close friend?"

"Do you honestly think a guy like him could for that kind of committed relationship? Being raised in a household without love, it's no wonder that he probably ran out on Alaska when she got pregnant. He didn't know how to be a family with anyone. He'd already been diagnosed with depression at seventeen, and it looks like his meds had been switched a lot," Morgan says, eyes jumping through multiple pages. He props his feet up on the desk and sinks further into his chair. "Cayden was thoroughly depressed. Not angry, or overly emotional. Just, depressed."

"We both know that a crime like this is out of hatred," Emily nods. She tosses the file down on the table. "With his depression being severe enough to lead to suicide, there's no way he made a strong enough connection to someone who'd kidnap his ex and her new boyfriend. We're wasting our time with this."

That being stating, Morgan tosses his file down too and rests his hands behind his head.

"What kind of thing would tick you off enough to kidnap a federal agent and a smarty pants like Alaska?" He asks his co worker.

"I'd have to be angry. Either confident enough that I wouldn't get caught, or careless enough to disregard the risk of confrontation."

They both mull over it, racking their brains for some kind of answer.

"Or, I knew I'd have insurance." Emily says.

Morgan's head snaps to look over at her, an eyebrow quirked.

"Maybe he has some kind of alibi planned, or some escape goat to push the blame onto."

Morgan shrugs. "Good theory." His phone's shrill ringing stopped the conversation and he clicks it on speaker.

"Yeah, JJ?" He asks.

"I'm not having much luck with anything."

"Neither are we." Emily groans.

"Any news from Hotch or Rossi?" The blonde asks over the phone. Her voice is strained from the pressure they're all feeling.

"Nothing yet."

"Morgan, I called cause I need a favor. Garcia's losing her cheer, and I know, it's normal for a situation as bad as this, but-"

"I know, Jayje. I'll drive by the office today and see her." Morgan promises.

"Thanks. I'll go, look through more files." JJ sighs. She ends the call and looks to the pile on her desk, eyes nearly unfocused from the stress she's putting on them. "When in doubt," she whispers to herself, "drink more coffee."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13 **Two chapters in one night? Yes, it happens to be because I have nothing else to do and the last chapter wasn't as long as I wished it was. Hopefully this makes up for it! R&R! Oh, and the thing about elevator panels in the basements of sanatoriums is totally false, I think, I just needed to create a hopeful plan for the captives. Sorry if the inaccuracy takes away from the story!**

Garcia is hugging her knees to her chest, staring at her computer screens, feeling her heart heaving. She needs Spencer Reid. She needs to see his dorky little self everyday of the year because he's one of her best friends and though their job is dangerous, she has no plans of losing any of her friends.

_Knock, knock._  
The blonde swirls in her chair to face Derek as he saunters in the room. He's too cheery for her liking. She briefly wonders if that is the same feeling the team gets from seeing her everyday.

"Anything I can help with? I sent Rossi the info on Brinker, looked into the Holdens' as much as possible, gave you and Emily everything on Pritts', and JJ said she's good, looking through her files. I'd help, but I'm clueless when it comes to past cases. My mind is hard wired on the present and technology-"

"Pen. Stop." The man orders, stepping closer and closer until he's right in front of Garcia's swivel chair. To her, the new pink chair with flowers on it is as ridiculous as the rest of the room- from the pink butterfly waste bin, to the scrap books of the team resting in the back, to the sparkly decals on her computer monitors and her fluffy pens.

Maybe it's how Morgan's eyes switch to reveal the sadness she's feeling, or the way his hand feels on her shoulder, or the reality of the situation, or even the lack of her trademark clothing- but one thing or another sends her into sobs.

Morgan has never seen Penelope Garcia break like this. Not during the Hankel case, or even at Emily's fake funeral. This was hard core hopelessness. Though he never has had any clue as to handling a sobbing woman, he takes a chance with hugging her. It's apparently the right move- Garcia stands up and hugs him closer, letting her tears override all else.

"What's eating at you, baby girl?" Morgan asks after her sobs finally turn to sniffles.

"We're almost at the 48 hour point since the abduction."

Derek swallows and nods, arms tightening over his best friend. He knows the whole team has been thinking it that morning, but no one said it aloud until now. It's well known that after 48 hours after abduction occurs, the rate of survival is cut down by half. The clock is already striking two pm. It means that in approximately 8 more hours, the odds turn against them.

"We'll never give up on Reid, Mama. You know that. Never."

"Strauss is being nice at the moment, Derek. How much longer will that hold up? At most, she'll give us a week before telling us to get back to the other cases-"

"Garcia-"

"No, don't pretend it's not true. You know that's exactly what will happen. We'll be _forced_ to give up on him. To everyone else, we're just government workers who just do as were told and have no feelings or importance to anybody else but each other." Penelope pushes Morgan away and scrubs tears from her face with the sleeve of her hoodie. Before the agent before her can say anything more, she orders him out.

"What?" Derek says, shocked.

"You heard me. Out. I have work to do." She sits back down in her chair and sends him a glare until he backs out of the room, hands up in surrender as if she's some psycho unsub and shuts the door behind him with a loud snap. He's clearly upset with her, but she's too upset with the world to care.

When his footsteps fade down the hallway, tears fall down her makeup less face and she turns back to her computer. All the information on it was forced into her brain by now and it's all useless. Guilt seeps into her.

She's the tech wiz. She should be able to find out anything. She should've traced Reid's phone quicker. She should've found Alaska's adoption secret without Morgan's clue. She should be able to do so much more than what she can.

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It's been hours since Jessica left Alaska. The light steps coming down the hallway scare her. Dr. Michaels stands just before the door opens so she's not in such a vulnerable position on the floor. She's freezing; Spencer's shirt and her underwear aren't exactly made for comfort. Alaska forces herself to stop shaking when Jessica steps in the room. She's not alone.

A big guy, whom Alaska recognizes from knocking Spencer out back in the corn field, if following behind closely.

"We have a surprise for you, Alaska." Jessica smiles. It seems to be one of sincere excitement. "Cole, uncuff her and let's go."

The man steps forward, fishing a key from his pocket. Alaska spots the gun gleaming in Jessica's waistband when she turns to pull the door open widely. It's the only thing that keeps Alaska from trying to fight. Cole handcuffs her hands together, in front of her, and pushes her along, lightly, which is a surprise. After the experience with Satan, Alaska had no idea these people could be gentle.

"Where's Dr. Reid?" Alaska asks.

It strikes Jessica as odd that the captive asks about Spencer, rather than her own fate. She's torn between finding their puppy love cute, or sickening.

"He's none of your concern." She hisses. They go the long way to the basement so Spencer can't hear a thing from his closet. Jessica spent the whole day planning and hopping from pet shop to pet shop, buying snakes by the dozens. She got weird looks, of course, but each business man let his eyes drop to her body and be mesmerized by her youth that suspicions were forgotten.

Cole unbolts the door but keeps it shut, a glint of excitement in his eyes. He's the one who chose the setting of this and put the creatures in place. Jessica produces a blindfold and ties it around Alaska's head before the door is opened and she's pushed in. The door is quickly slammed shut and bolted behind her and she soon finds out why- as she takes a step forward, her foot presses down on something, producing a hiss, followed by a sharp pain digging into her ankle.

Screams escape her rapidly as she realizes the danger. She raises her handcuffed hands up in order to push the blind fold away. What she sees pales her skin and springs tears to her eyes in horror.

The reptiles are everywhere, dangling from wall pipes, slithering on the floor, and peeking out from under tool benches. No where in the room is safe. She can't even move without risking stepping on one or irritating another. Blood is slowly oozing from her ankle, and she hates Satan a little bit more, if possible, for ruining her clothes.

The snake that had bitten her is close to her right foot now, and to her horror, it starts to slither upwards. The scales against her flesh has her frozen in fear, sobbing, and screaming wildly at the same time.

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Reid is broken from his slumber at the sound of Alaska's screams. He'd just managed to forget his situation and desperation enough to fall asleep. The terror in Alaska's voice has him wide awake once more. His heart races at the darkness surrounding him, but he gets to his feet anyway and feels his way forward towards the door. Spencer pounds on it as hard as he can, then takes a step back and kicks under the knob with all his might. He's seen Morgan do it so many times that he's memorized the fluid movement.

Nothing happens other than the throbbing pain that spreads up his leg and into his hip. He tries again, her screams fueling him. This time, the door opens with a snap of the wood. Spencer doesn't let his body feel the pain in his leg from kicking the door, or the pain in his eyes when the light assaults them. He just runs blindly towards the sound of her. He flies down a couple flights of stairs, then down a few hallways.

"SPENCER!" She's sobbing.

_I can't fail her,_ he says to himself, _not again_.

Reid finds the door, unbolts it, and pushes it open. Alaska's face is bright red and tear streaked, her body splattered with blood in odd spots. It's then that he notices the small boa constrictor around her leg, squeezing as hard as it can, and the other two good sized snakes slithering up her body. The one is across her middle, the other on her shoulder, it's tail down her shirt, clearly having just been traveling from here.

"Get them off, please, just get them off." She pleads, her voice cracking and tears streaming. Even after all the situations Spencer Reid has been is, he doesn't believe he's ever seen someone so afraid in his whole life.

"It's okay, Alaska, it's okay." He whispers. Careful of his step, Reid moves closer until he can pick the snake off her shoulder. He read somewhere that grabbing them behind the head is the safest, and he keeps that in mind. Once the snake from her waist is safely slithering to a dark corner, he moves to the boa constrictor. Alaska's hand moves to rest in his hair and she grips his tassels for comfort. Slowly but surely, the boa lets go of Alaska. It finds Spencer as a bigger threat and lunges at him. He stands up in time for it to miss it's target; also known as his collar bone, and harmlessly bounce off the front of his shirt and to the floor.

"Hop on my back." Spencer says, hunching over. Alaska doesn't object, just follows orders and buries her face in his back. She's so scared she's shaking.

They make it into the corridor and shut the door behind them. Three snakes had slipped out and Spencer avoids them as well as he can before letting Alaska down on her feet. She just hugs him and cries at first, before pulling back and kissing him.

"You're my knight in shining armor." She breathes shakily. Spencer grins at her whole heartedly before pulling her down the hallway. His mind had mapped it out subconsciously.

"This is obviously the basement; that's where a furnace is usually kept." Spencer says, mainly to get his own brain thinking. Alaska nods anyway, urging him to continue. She desperately needs to forget the wounds dripping blood all over her body. "Jessica is most likely on a much higher floor or gone. She would've heard me break the door open."

"Door?" Alaska asks. Spencer shakes his head.

"Long story."

"Cole was with her."

"Cole?"

"The guy who hit you in the cornfield. He had drugged me, and probably helped Jessica bring us here."

"So, she has a partner." Spencer sighs, brushing his hair back and leaning against a wall. Alaska stands across from him, eyes confused.

"We knew that- Satan and Cam, remember?"

"No, those were just henchmen, so to speak. They're out of the equation."

"What do we do now?"

He takes in the place- upstairs is warm and carpeted, but down here is cold with cement floors. They can't stay in the hallways, they're too open. Testing doors would be a mistake, they could stumble into a trap of Jessica's or a room as dangerous as the basement. The walls have mold growing on them, so staying here could be as equally dangerous on terms as their lungs if the mold is toxic. Spencer's mind runs through possibilities before recalling something-

"The elevators." He grins. His eyes flicker down the hallway, back to where the room of snakes is.

"I'm not following, Spence."

"These elevators are shut down, right? Well, in sanatoriums they usually keep an elevator panel in the basement incase of emergency. I read up on elevators after my friend Morgan and I were trapped in one."

"Okay, and what are we going to do in the elevator?"

"It'll be our safe place. We can hide there, and find out how many floors there are to this place. Once we know that, we'll know how many flights of stairs we have to go up until we reach the ground floor, where we'll also find the doors. Leading to our great escape."

Alaska's eyes light up, realizing how good that plan actually sounds.

"How long until they realize we're missing?" She asks as she follows Spencer back towards the basement door.

He exhales loudly. "That, I don't know. But there's an elevator door one flight of stairs up, three doors down the left hallway. Go. I'll open the doors there. Hide inside and when I get there, I'll knock once. Let me in and we'll be okay."

"I don't want to split up." The woman whimpers.

"I know," Spencer responds, voice earnest. "But I promise, this will help get us out of here."

With one last kiss, Alaska heads to the stairs and travels up them as silently as she can, worried about whether or not Spencer can keep that promise.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14 **In this chapter, I'm trying to give explanations for everything. Of course, it's not over yet ;) But this chapter will either make sense to you, or totally confuse you. **

Agent Hotchner stares down at Liam Ritz, debating if he should believe one word that he's been told. It seems kind of far fetched, after all, how many teenagers are capable of this? How many seventeen year old girls want to kidnap a federal agent this bad?

He leaves the suspect without another word, and stares at Rossi, whose eyes are hardened and distant. Dave is holding his cell phone, open and at the ready in his right hand, and he hits speed dial with a nod to Aaron.

"Yes, sir?"

They both ignore the lifelessness to their tech's voice. "I need you to tell me what you can on Jessica Howard."

"Jessica Howard is currently seventeen, goes to Richmond's public high school…or, did anyways. She dropped out about a month ago. Her and her mother moved here when her father… oh. Her father was Stan Howard. He committed suicide by cop; we were on that case."

Hotch tries to recall details. "He's the guy who pretended to have a business, right? He let his victims come to him for help for their phobias, then he used them for their death."

"Yep. Jessica was actually adopted by the Howards when she was a toddler. I think the reason they moved here is because her mother took a job at a law firm that's not too far away from the school."

"Could you have JJ get over here? Send the files on the Stan Howard case too. Jessica is most likely acting in revenge for her father."  
The phone just clicks off, no friendly goodbye from Garcia. Rossi and Hotch don't dwell on, instead choosing to shrug it off and hurry to gather the rest of the team.

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Liam Ritz sits in the room and stares at the glass. It's an interrogation window, no doubt. He's seen it on TV before. Who hasn't? He's hoping the cops have stopped watching so no one sees the saltwater leaking from his eyes. Crying isn't something a man should do, let alone while in front of others.

He wants to take his words back. Every single syllable he said to Agent Hotchner hurt his pride and reputation. What will happen to him in prison when they find out he's a rat? That his loose lips sent some pretty teenager to jail?

He'd told Hotchner how Tristan had been the one to make an agreement with Jessica. She'd gone to school with his kid brother. He'd been selling her some drugs on the side, and she'd threatened to rat him out to the cops if he didn't help her. Tristan had come to him with pity in his eyes and told him how the stupid FBI backed her father into a corner and ruined her life. He told the agent how she blamed them for her drug addiction and how her mother buried herself in her work.

Tristan's sympathy towards the girl was unusual for him. He wasn't a softie. But he did hate law enforcement. They'd put his uncle away for fraud. It's why his friend moved to Virginia to begin with- he had to get away from his family's spoiled reputation. He came here and made on of his own by selling drugs, partying it up in bars, and rooming with Ritz.

Neither of the men knew what Jessica's plans were. Though Agent Hotchner didn't seem to believe it, Liam really was clueless. He was the responsible one of it all. It was his idea to scope Dr. Reid's place before the abduction. Jessica set the date for the actual abduction, but it came on short notice- she'd said she had been following the doctor around and that they must act quick. Tristan choose the place for the switch off to happen- the house used to be a good place for drug deals to happen.

Jessica had came with some stranger to pick them up (no way was he bringing this 'Cole' guy into the discussion by name; he'd possibly run into him in prison.) and they'd sped off in a car, the captives crammed in the trunk.

When Hotch asked for details, he promised all they did was rough up the agent a bit, and Tristan may have partied with the girl a bit- but they were, otherwise, unharmed. He then told of how Dr. Reid shot Tristan. He left out the agent's escape, saying he overpowered both of them until Jessica showed up. No need to give any of his weaker movements to the agents to laugh at.

What's really bringing the tears to Ritz's eyes is the knowledge that he's going away, his best friend's blood practically on his hands. No escaping that, though Agent Hotchner promised to put in a good word for minimum sentencing. That's something, right?

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Spencer opened the basement door after several deep breaths. He's not afraid of snakes, but that doesn't mean he wants to walk right into a room filled of them. He leaves the door wide open, hoping they'd rather slither away than attack him.

Slowly but surely, he makes his way into the room, avoiding the little reptiles. A few are concerning in size, but he knows they're more than likely not going to bother him if he gives them a respective amount of space. When he gets to the electrical box hanging off the wall, he grabs the small gardening snake off it and tosses it away. It hisses but doesn't come back at him. He opens the door to the box quickly and his eyes roam over the switches.

Reid knows vaguely what he's looking for- an elevator switch to open the door. He finds a switch with a piece of tape hanging off of it, the writing on the tape labeling it with a cursive E. He takes his chance and hit's the switch. Shutting the box, he looks around for anything useful.  
A big snake is hiding behind a pair of bolt cutters. Spencer sighs, but approaches. When his hand reaches out to grip the handle, the beast hisses. It's tongue keeps flicking outwards to sense the air, eyes intently glaring.

"Shit." Reid breathes. "Just do it."

He does his best to pull the cutters away from the snake quickly, but his plan backfires. When he moves his object of desire, it gives the snake a clean shot to his calf. It takes the course and sinks it's teeth into his flesh. Reid holds back a shriek from the pain and pulls the snake off by applying pressure to the back of it's head. He flings it away and hurries to the door, shutting it as quietly as he can behind him. He even locks the bolts so it looks as though it hasn't been disturbed.

He just really hopes the switch he hit opened the doors for Alaska.

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Alaska is holding as still as she can. She's right around a corner, one floor up from Spencer. The direction's he'd given were correct, thank heavens. The sanatorium is deadly silent, except for her racing heart. The handcuffs around her wrists are too tight for comfort, and she's sure if someone were to look hard enough, they could follow the trail of blood her wounds have caused. Nothing is okay, especially the fact that Spencer is in a room full of snakes and far away from her.

A light creak pulls her from her worrying and she rushes to the elevator. It's crossed over by big X's of caution tape. She maneuvers past it and sits on the ground, rocking back and forth for some comfort. The doors shut so quietly, she doesn't even realize she's safe until a small, timid knock comes.

Alaska fiddles with the button panel and finds the correct button to open the doors. She's greeted with a wide smile before Spencer gets in, a pair of bolt cutters in his hands. He waits until the doors are shut before whispering a soft 'hello.'

"Get me out of these?" She asks, holding her cuffed hands in front of her. He first cuts the chain linking the two, then carefully sets out to get them removed from her hands.

"I told you, we'll be okay." He says as he works, his relief smothering her in the tiny space.

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"We've got an ID of Reid's abductor. Jessica Howard. A seventeen year old dropout and drug addict." Rossi announces. "She was a friend of Tristan's, and hired him and Liam to kidnap Reid. Dr. Michaels wasn't part of the plan."

"Does that mean she's going to kill Alaska?" Morgan asks. JJ had just arrived and has yet to pass out the files of an old, resolved case. Hotch nods at her to do so now. They all look over the file, no one really catching on until Prentiss speaks up.

"Jessica Howard, as in this creeps daughter? It's a revenge thing?"

"Appears so."

"Why Reid? Is it that he's the closest to her age?" JJ asks.

"Or," Hotch says regrettably, "that he's the weakest link, physically. Easier for her to hold power over than if she'd have targeted, say, Morgan."

"JJ or I would have been more practical." Prentiss mumbles.

"Maybe she holds anger to Hotch, Reid, and I because we were on scene the day her father committed suicide?" Morgan points out. He throws the file back down on the table and leans back. Both of the girls are reading and re-reading every detail, while the two superiors are trying to come up with other feeble theories.

"What would her purpose be, no matter who she took?" Rossi asks.

"If she's acting out in her own way- she could want just revenge, in general. Torture, which would usually come with some way to rub it in our faces. But she's remained silent. She doesn't want to be caught, she just wants to do her thing and move on."

"Female killers are always neater. Take bigger precautions. They don't typically want recognition, they have precise motives. If she wants her own kind of revenge, she'd have either killed by now, is starving them, or she'd have hired Tristan and Liam to kill them for her. Less mess involved." Hotch says.

"What if she's revenging her father's actions?" JJ speaks up. Everyone looks at her for further explanation. "She could be finishing what he did. Exploiting Reid and Michaels' fears. Using those against them and having a laugh off it. Enjoying the power of it all. Maybe her goal isn't to kill. It could be to scare and psychologically torture them, before returning them as an example."

"We can't really say for sure-" Rossi starts. Hotch's phone's shrill ringing interrupts them. He briefly wonders why Garcia would call him over Morgan, then puts it on speaker. Again, no happy greeting. Garcia just gets to the point.

"Jessica Howard hasn't been in trouble with the law lately. Though, with her mother being a lawyer, she could get away with a lot under the table. Anyway, why I called was because I got her contact info, it's now on your handhelds, and to tell you that right now she should be at her part time job- as a bartender."

"She's only seventeen." Morgan says, confused. "It's against the law."

"Well, you see, that's the thing. This job is not for children such as herself, and the employer is Cole Giscard. I did some digging into him and found that he has a few arrests for possession of drugs, which if you add two and two, it'd tell you that's probably how Jessica is getting her drugs without taking large chunks of cash from the bank."

"Thanks, we'll head over there now-"

"I'm not done." Garcia snaps, interrupting Hotch. Everyone widens their eyes at the edge to her. "Giscard is a name that is well known to around here, particularly a certain Renee Giscard- the head secretary here at the BAU's building."

"So we likely have a mole?" Rossi sighs.

"Hard to say, but it sure is a huge coincidence that around the time Jessica moves here, her supplier's sister gets a job in our building."

"That everything?" JJ prompts, getting up from her seat.

"For now." Garcia ends the call, and JJ looks over to Morgan.

"I thought you talked to her?"

"I did." He nods. "She ordered me out after crying on my shoulder. She's mess, but at least she's still motivated enough to figure all of this out for us, right?"

"I'll talk to her when we solve this case." Hotch interrupts. "But as for now, we need to stake out the bar, take Jessica into custody afterwards. If Cole is the stranger Ritz recalls being with her, he likely knows where Reid and Michaels are. He'll kill if we spook them."

"Shouldn't we just follow Jessica after her shift?" Prentiss suggests. "She's probably going back to where she's keeping them after work."

"Good thinking." Her boss praises. "Morgan, you and I will keep watch on her car. JJ, you and Rossi watch Cole's. Prentiss, I want you to go in the bar and hide out. Keep a close watch, but don't let them spot you. If his sister works at the BAU, they'll most likely be educated on all of us."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15-** So, I changed the name of this story. Sorry if it caused any inconvenience, but I decided to name the story after the song by Landon Austin. **

Spencer has just finished cutting the metal from around Alaska's wrist when he takes notice to how tired she is. She's barely keeping her eyes open at this point.

"You can rest up now." He offers, sitting back to rest against the side wall.

"We need to plan our escape." She answers, shaking her head. Her answer is a reluctant one.

"I'll do it while you sleep." Spencer says. "You're too big of a distraction to me anyway."

Alaska laughs half heartedly, knowing the genius probably isn't joking. Her eye lids feel like bricks, so she stretches out, her head laying in Reid's lap before giving into her body's exhaustion.

In all honesty, Spencer envies her. He wishes his mind would shut off while he's safely tucked away in this elevator, but adrenaline has him thinking fast. His hazel eyes flicker upwards at the elevator buttons. Out of seven floors, they're on the one labeled "storage," which comes under the ground floor and before the basement.

Jessica, he could probably take down if he tackled her. Though he's not nearly as muscled or intimidating as Morgan, Reid is sure hand to hand combat is his best bet on getting out of here. It's tricky to get to that- she has a gun while all he has is his brain and bolt cutters.

While Alaska is asleep, Reid decides to make a new profile. Start from scratch. She's a seventeen year old female, acting in vengeance for her father's suicide. Somehow, she learned of his and Alaska's biggest fears, and found an abandoned sanatorium to hold them in. The room they were first kept in seems to have been planned out. Bared of weapons, cage on the window (though it could've been there from when the sanatorium was up and working), but the white paint seemed to be new. It wasn't chipped or dirty. Jessica has made a lot of easy connections with people willing to help- Cam, Satan, and this 'Cole' guy. Everything was thought out well.

What Spencer still doesn't understand is her end result. She's organized when it comes to abduction- she hired hit men so she is at lower risk for getting caught. Will she be organized when it comes to disposing of himself and Alaska? Leave them locked here to starve? Or is that what Cole's purpose is- to murder them for her?

"Stop. Please." The whimpering rips Spencer from his thoughts. Alaska's nap has quickly turned into restless dreaming. He knows waking someone from a nightmare can make it worse, but he can't risk her screaming or making enough noise to draw attention if someone's in the building.

As gentle yet as firm as possible, he places his hand over her mouth and shakes her with his free one. Her body tries to jerk away and her eyes fly open. He shushes her before removing his hand from her mouth and pulling her to him. Tears had started collecting in the corner of her eyes as soon as she realized that the dream wasn't just a dream. That man had really taken away her sense of safety.

"Want to talk about it?" Reid asks, a bit hesitant. He has a good hunch as to what it's about.

"How long afterwards do rape victims relive it?"

He winces at the shaky tone before taking a deep breath. "It depends on the person." They're left in silence for a good ten minutes before Spencer pushes her away so he can look her in the eyes.

"Listen to me, Alaska. With the job I have, I've dealt with victims too often. Not just of rape, but of vandalism, attempted homicides, and armed robberies. The worst of the worst. If there's anything I learned it's that the past will haunt you as long as you let it. You're a strong person. I can see from just the short amount of time I've known you."

She nods a little shyly before falling back into him for another embrace. Alaska tilts her head up and kisses his jaw, her lips pausing there a minute longer than necessary so he knows she appreciates his words. When she lays back down, head in his lap, she intertwines her fingers with his.

"Tell me about you, Spence." She begs.

"Like what?"

Alaska licks her lips. "Anything I don't know already."

"I told you I was raised by my mom. My dad left when I was a kid because her schizophrenia was too hard for him to handle. I had her committed when I was eighteen because I didn't want to spend the rest of my life taking care of her. It was selfish, I know. But I wanted a life to live for."

She's speechless for a minute, lost in her own thoughts. "Is that why you're so smart?"

He raises an eyebrow at her.

"I mean, you memorize statistics and know everything about everything. Was it because you wanted to prove something to your dad?" Spencer's silent and she takes it badly. "I'm sorry, that was a lot to assume-"

"You were right." He interrupts, shaking his head. "I guess I forced all this knowledge and study habits into my head when I was younger because I thought it'd make him want to stay. And after he left, I read nonstop, and learned everything I could. I wanted to be so successful that he'd regret leaving us."

Alaska lifts their intertwined hands and ghosts her lips over the back of his hand. It's so gentle he would think he'd imagined it if it weren't for the tingle her affection left behind.

"You're so strong for taking care of your mom. What you did wasn't selfish- an institution can take better care of her than you can while juggling school and work- oh, god. I didn't even realize- being in a sanatorium is scary for you, isn't it?"

Spencer blushes and nods, embarrassed that she just pieced together one of his biggest fears.

"What did Jessica do to you earlier? I woke up and you were just gone."

"She took me to another room. I, um, well, I'm scared of the dark, and she shut me in a dark closet." His face is turning darker. Admitting such childish fears is making him worried that Alaska will find humor in his weaknesses.

"It's pretty dark in here." She observes. The only source of light is from above them- the elevator's ceiling has a clear top, allowing light from the shaft to flood in. The light source is the sky behind a layer of thin glass. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I- I can deal with it."

"Awe, Spencer. Don't be embarrassed. If I tell you all my fears, will you feel better?" He shrugs so she continues. "Snakes- obviously. Spiders. Well, only the long legged ones. And I get a bit claustrophobic sometimes. My worst fear I guess is the future."

Her last words are spoke with a humorless chuckle. Spencer asks her politely to elaborate, and she sighs.

"I guess I just worry that all the bad decisions I've made in the past are going to affect my life later on. Like- well, there's something I haven't told you." Her eyes tear up once more. Spencer squeezes her hand tighter.

"Whatever it is, I'm not going to judge you. Well, unless you murdered someone, or set fire to someone's house out of anger-"

"Not quite." Alaska laughs. "I, um. Almost two years ago, I was really busy with school. Could hardly afford to keep up with my bills. All the stress pushed me to go to some bars. I didn't mean to be irresponsible- I was just looking for a way to let off some steam. I hooked up with a guy, and got pregnant." She paused and waited for Spencer to push her away. When he doesn't react, she continues. "I gave her up for adoption. It killed the guy- I had told him, and didn't give him much of a decision. We dated while I was pregnant to see if we could handle the relationship, but no way did that work out. Money wasn't coming easy, and the medical bills were insane. He paid them off, and then the adoption family refunded us for most of it. They're lovely people, and I'm glad they can take care of her. It's a closed adoption because I don't want her to know about me. I don't want her to ever think that she wasn't good enough for me-" She stops there, her tears making her throat grow thick. Now it's Spencer that lifts their hands and kisses her's. It's a solid, lingering kiss that she appreciates deeply. But she shakes her head and clears her throat.

"That's not the worst part. He- his name was Cayden. He committed suicide after the adoption was closed and I moved to this part of Virginia. I didn't even go back for his funeral; I couldn't. It was all my fault."

Spencer shushes her and shakes his head. "It wasn't your fault-"

"I don't get why you're not angry at me. Your father left. I abandoned my child like he abandoned you." The words are cold, angry, and deeply rooted by loathing towards herself. "Cayden may as well have been murdered by me. I gave his child away. I broke it off with him because I wanted my job more than I wanted a family with him."

"You're nothing like my father." Spencer promises. He pulls her so she's sitting up and hugs her, forcing yet another breakdown. "He left. You couldn't provide for your baby, so you acted in her best interest. My father left me with a woman who couldn't take care of herself, let alone me. She was still a good mother, I don't blame her for anything- but still. He left for his own selfish reasons."

Alaska falls silent after just moments, and he thinks she's asleep until she squirms in his arm to wipe away the tear streaks. They lean on each other and she sighs.

"If we get out of here, I think I want to know more about her."

"About your daughter?"

"Yeah. I don't know anything. I don't even know her name. What mother doesn't even know her daughter's name?"

"You were compartmentalizing. Trying to make it easier to let her go. I know the world's best tech analyst, who'd probably be happy to help you."

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Prentiss weaves through the crowd of people and finds a back table with a perfect sight of the bar. After glancing down at the picture of Jessica that Garcia sent to her phone, she looks up to the young bartender.

She pushes in on her ear piece and whispers to the microphone hidden at the collar of her jacket.

"I have confirmation that our UnSub is here. She's within my line of sight."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16 **warning: the next few chapters will contain drug use, torture, and some gruesome stuff. next post will be tomorrow. Enjoy :) **

**R&R!**

Prentiss turns her back when Jessica glances up, pretending to be immensely interested in her cell phone. She stays like that and her mind is reeling with worry that she doesn't notice the heavy footsteps approaching her at first.

When she does, it's too late to notify the team, or even reach for her gun that's hidden in her waistband. A rough hand turns her around and a swift fist flies into her temple before she can even make a sound; efficiently knocking her out.

Cole pushes her hair aside after sitting her limp body down in a chair. The ear piece is ripped away and thrown to the floor, along with the microphone he finds seconds later. Jessica watches the whole ordeal, internally panicking. Killing Reid and the woman weren't part of her plans, exactly. But if the FBI already knows her identity, it seems that the time for drastic measures is now.

Cole joins her behind the bar, a borrowed set of keys in hand, and whispers orders in her ear, voice so confident that she falls deeper into her allusion of hope.

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"Come in, Prentiss. Come in." Hotch says into the device. The deal was that his agent would report every five minutes, but it's now going onten since they'd last heard of a visual confirmation.

"Alright, I'm going in." Morgan says, taking off his kevlar vest and hiding his gun in his waistband like Prentiss had just a short while earlier. Hotch hesitates for a brief moment, wondering if it's the right move, but nods. He has to know if Prentiss is hurt or simply preoccupied.  
JJ hands him an ear piece and microphone to wire to the front of his shirt. "Be careful." She whispers, a tight lipped grin on her face. He pats her hand in response and heads into the bar.

It's the normal party scene- couples laughing and drinking their fair share. Morgan looks over the bar area and sees that Jessica is no where in sight. In her spot are two teenage girls, each caked with cheap makeup and lacking proper clothing. Next, his eyes search the crowd for his co worker. Her jet black hair is easy enough to spot. She's seated in the back corner of the room, facing away from him.

"I can see Emily. Moving in now. No sign of the UnSubs." He says into his microphone. When he's within a foot of Emily, he spots the ear piece and microphone on the floor, clearly crushed by someone's shoe in anger. Morgan places a hand gently on the woman's shoulder, and she doesn't respond.

"Emily." He panics. Pulling her around, he takes in her slump form and closed eyes, expecting the worst. Fortunately, a quick check reveals that her pulse is coming steady and strong. "She's out cold. Someone saw her and knocked her out. Ear piece and mike are destroyed."  
Hotch answers to his subordinate's report with a sigh. "We'll send in an EMT discreetly. Ask someone where Jessica and Cole are."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Just do it, Morgan. They already know we're here."

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Spencer wakes up from a loud shriek echoing throughout the building. Alaska jumps next to him, eyes confused and worried.

"They know we're missing." Spencer confirms.

"What do we do?"

"Lower our voices." He whispers. "Stay silent, and wait for a while."

"Shouldn't we try to get out the front door?" Alaska whispers back.

Spencer takes a deep breath. "Too much risk. Her and Cole are probably on high alert now."

"Then, we should've went earlier?"

"We were both in no condition for that. Now, we're rested, thinking straight, and that's all very important."

"How do we know when to-"

"I don't know." Reid confesses. "But I'll let you in on everything when I do."

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Jessica's shriek started building in her throat when she spotted a snake on the stair case. It wasn't out of fear of the creature, but of anguish as to what it's presence means. Cole understood too, for he hurries to the basement door and undoes the lock. They both peer in at the empty room, ignoring the hisses around them.

"I'll search the top, floors five to seven. You, check storage through fourth." Jessica orders. She pulls the gun off her belt and Cole does the same.

"When we find them, what should we do?" Cole asks.

"Take them to the roof." She answers, eyes seeing red. "The BAU is going to feel the exact aftermath that I felt."

"We're going to push them off the roof?" The man asks, amused. "Jesus, Jess. Never knew you had it in you."

She ignores his comment, flips her blonde hair away from her face, and heads up countless flights of stairs, her gun at the ready. Jessica Howard is not one to chase danger, but her adrenaline is carrying her far. When she arrives at the fifth floor, she barges in every door she comes to. She lingers in the doctor's ward, heavily displeased. She would've had so much fun with the little bitch in here.

The six and seventh floor are vacant as well. When she meets once more with Cole on the third floor, he's also unsuccessful.

"Do you think they got out?" He worries.

"No way. The locks are solid, and all the windows are caged. There is no way out. They're hiding somewhere."

"We checked everywhere."

"I know that!" She practically shouts at her accomplice. As her eyes look intently down the hallway, they land on the elevator. With one finger at her lips so Cole says nothing more, Jessica inches towards it and presses an ear up to the doors. Nothing can be heard, but something tells her she's on the right path.

"Do you know what floor the elevator is resting at?"

"Probably storage." Cole shrugs. "It's the last floor it goes to."

"Flip the elevator switch in the basement to open the doors. I'll wait outside the doors for the little mongrels."

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"How do we find them now?" Morgan practically growls. The bartender he asked said her boss and co worker left just minutes earlier in the company car. Her words had been laced with a flirtatious tone, and she practically begged to let her give him a drink. Now, the team is crowded around an ambulance in the back parking lot, the bartender in the back of a police car because she's about three years too young to be serving alcohol.

"We find out what model the company car is." Hotch answers. He's already on the phone with Garcia, asking her to hack the security feed with the information he got from the place's mechanic.

"It's a ford hybrid. Ugly little thing. Just sent an alert with the license plate to police patrol cars. The footage shows Cole and Jessica getting in and taking off."

"Thanks Garcia."

Hotch hangs up and turns to the medic who is bent over Prentiss in the ambulance. The man had just finished checking her blood pressure and is now applying an ice pack to her head. "She'll be okay, I take it?"

"Absolutely. Nothing out of the normal except for her lack of conciseness." The medic grins. As he speaks, Emily's fingers twitch and a groan seeps through her silence. "And it looks like even that is coming to an end."

Hotch helps Emily sit up on the gurney and orders her to take it easy. She ignores the demand and stands up.

"Cole. The bastard punched me." She fumes. "Did we get them?"

"They took the company car." Hotch responds, shaking his head. He hops down, out of the ambulance and offers Emily assistance that she swats away. Hotch almost grins- he's always admired her independence.

"Why the hell does a bar have a company car?"

"It was probably more of a get away car that Cole had here for emergencies like this." JJ says, running hands through her hair. Her blue eyes take in Emily's angered appearance and tries not to laugh. If Cole's punch hadn't knocked her out, he would've found Emily's gun pressed to his skull, no doubt.

"We should help the cops patrol the area." Rossi suggests, a feeling of helplessness settling in his stomach.

"Morgan with me, we'll check in with Jessica's mother. JJ with Dave; you guys help the police patrol the area. Prentiss, help the police out here."

"But sir-"

"No, Emily. It's better to have one of us back here, profiling the rest of the workers to see if they have any connections to this."

Prentiss accepts his order with a reluctant nod, watching her team get into two separate vehicles and driving off. Night is falling, and it's the near confirmation that the whole team has been dreading. Their chances of finding their team member and Dr. Michaels has been cut down.

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Spencer hears faint footsteps coming towards the elevator. The hairs on his neck have begun to stand and he motions for Alaska not to talk. He rises to his feet as silently as possible, and lends Alaska a hand before picking up the bolt cutters. Spencer then pushes Alaska behind him.  
The little ding has his blood running cold. What's normally a pleasant sound he hears at work while riding up to his floor now sounds like a death sentence. The doors slide open and his eyes are pierced by bright light flooding in from the hallway. When he blinks away the dots contaminating his vision, he's faced with a gun and the dangerous blonde behind it.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17 **warning: drugs and blood! **

"Put the gun down." Reid says, holding the bolt cutters at the ready. The metal instrument is nothing against the loaded gun, but he feigns confidence anyways. Hands grip his waist tightly with fear. He knows Alaska can't take much more of this, and it forces him to continue. "I know that you think hurting us is going to bring back your father in some way, but it won't. He's gone and nothing you do to us will fix that."

"Shut. Your. Mouth." Jessica growls, stepping a foot inside the elevator doors so they don't shut. "Walk out here, in the hallway next to me. Now. Or else this bullet goes straight through your skull. Drop the cutters while you're at it."

Spencer drops them in the elevator and walks out, noticing the caution tape has been torn away and lays in a ball on the hallway floor. When Alaska is beside him, he movers behind her and pushes her forward urgently. She gets the message and runs. He follows, trying to shield any shot Jessica may have of her with his own body.

The gun goes off and pain erupts in his wrist.

"Oh my god." Alaska squeals, seeing the blood spray on the wall.

"Keep going." He says, refusing to think of the wound. His mind is being hardwired to think of the best way to get upstairs without being fatally hit.

They come to the stairway and he tells her to run going back and forth diagonally. It makes it harder for someone with a gun to aim. Footsteps are behind them, and he winces as the gun goes off three more times. The first two are misses with wide berths, but the last hits into the wall's plaster just inches to the right of Reid.

They reach the floor and sprint to the end, trying to find the doors. When they do, his heart sinks. Two dead bolts and chains are keeping them locked in. He groans, both of frustration and of pain. They turn, finding both Jessica and Cole holding guns, pointed at each of them.

"While that was fun," Jessica smiles, "I'd like to get back to the initial plan now."

Cole steps forward, cautiously and grabs Alaska first. He turns her around and pins her roughly against the door, cuffing her hands behind her back. The man tells Jessica he's out of cuffs, but she just shrugs.

"We'll make due. Take Dr. Michaels to the doctor's ward. I'll be there momentarily."

Cole does as he's directed, and Spencer watches, helpless, as Alaska is taken away.

"Sorry I had to shoot you, Dr. Reid." Jessica says, no remorse in her voice. His hand is dripping blood on the floor. Every movement sends new jolts of pain up his arm.

"What's your plan, Jessica?"

"If I tell you, there won't be any surprises. That's no fun." She laughs. "Come along now."

Reid is led up a flight of stairs, down five doors, and then shoved inside. She forces him to sit on the comfortable looking couch with a wave of her gun as she locks the door and kneels next to the safe in the corner. Spencer sits on the edge of the couch and tapping his foot to calm his nerves. He doesn't dare try anything while he's unsure where Alaska is. Reid knows he should at least try to stop the bleeding from his wound, but he has nothing to use as a bandage. The white undershirt he has on is dirty with sweat and Alaska's blood from the snake bites. Using it will only cause infection.

When he sees what's inside the safe, he just about chokes on his heart as it leaps into his throat. He wants to jump to his feet and run. He can't, though- fear has him stopped in his tracks. The fact that his weakness found it's way to this seventeen year old's mind is eerie, but seeing the substance that almost ruined his life practically tears his pride to shred.

"I bet you'd love some. Especially now that you're hurt." Jessica coos, as if talking to a baby. She sets the syringe on the table and comes towards him, also mumbling a quick reminder that Alaska will pay if he doesn't behave, in the same affectionate tone.

She's put herself in my top ten list of the craziest criminals, he thinks to himself. He'd jokingly started the list after Prentiss and Rossi told him how they keep lists.

The young girl's hands find his belt, and undoes it quickly, sliding it through his pant's loops. The motion isn't a sexual advance, Spencer knows, but it doesn't make the action any less sickening.

"I bet this exact belt has been used for this same purpose." Jessica taunts, wrapping it around his upper arm. She's right, but he won't let her know it. When it's nice and tight, she goes back for the syringe.

"Stop. Please." He begs. It's shameful that he's resulted to that, but he knows what this single dose could do to him. It will send him back into the world of cravings, withdrawals, and irritation. The needle pricks his skin, right in the crook of his arm. It's painfully familiar. His mind floods with guilt at the relief he unintentionally feels. His body has never stopped wanting the drug, even after all this time.

"Don't act like you don't want it."

The blonde's bright smile is the last thing he sees as the dilaudid pulls him under.

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"Well, well, well. It's about time someone taught you manners, Alaska Michaels." Jessica taunts, waltzing in the room and to Cole's side. He already has her strapped down to the operating table and the girl is pulling at the restraints.

"You shot Spencer." Alaska snarls.

"It was your fault. I was aiming for you." Jessica loses the happiness in her voice and it turns to ice, much like Alaska's.

"You know what? Maybe this is all circled around a different anger." Alaska says, running with a theory.

"Is that so?"

"Yes, you're just angry that Spencer is happy. That he has me, his team, and even his mother. You have nobody but this low life. You're biological parents didn't even want you-"

Alaska's words fall silent as Cole backhands her. Meanwhile, Jessica just stares at her, curiosity sketched in her expression.

"Spencer has nothing but his intelligence. His team would've found him already if they cared- it's been forty eight hours since the abduction. His mother is nothing but a whack job, and you," Jessica sneers, "you're nothing but extra baggage that I can get rid of."

She punctuates her statement by walking to a drawer and pulling out an surgical knife. It gleams in the room's white lighting. Past bloodstains on the floor seem to shine brighter, and Jessica's determination grows stronger.

Alaska puts on the bravest face she can find as the knife rests where Spencer's shirt ends. Her thigh just about screams with sensitivity from the cold metal. Pressure forces the knife down a little bit, and it produces a few bubbles of blood to gather. Jessica is staring at the ministrations, fascinated. Alaska thinks that she can do this; that she can make Spencer proud by not making a single sound when Jessica makes the next few cuts, each getting a little deeper and stinging a little more.

Cole's phone makes a short chime and he clicks some buttons and frowns. He shows whatever's on the screen to Jessica.

The "suffer in silence" plan goes to shreds as Jessica's face contorts with anger and she raises the knife, bringing it down with force. The bleeding gash in her leg brings about a shriek, which then turns to a short-lived scream of pain. It's stopped by the knife being raised once more.

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Aaron Hotchner and Derek Morgan knock on the door to the small household before them. When the petite brunette answers, she instantly recognizes them. Seeing them again is like reliving the worst few days of her life.

"You're from the FBI." She recalls, stepping back to let them in. "I thought this whole mess was over." The lady leads them to her small kitchen, where they sit around the counter to talk. It's a cramped space, but kept neat, proving it's occupants are two women.

"Ma'am, we need to find Jessica." Morgan says. "I know, this comes as a shock, but we believe she's involved in the kidnapping of a federal agent."

Both agents are met with a blank stare.

"My d-daughter wouldn't- no. You're mistaken."

"Do you have any idea where she is right now? We need to talk to her to clear her name from our suspect pool." Hotch answers gently. He has no doubt that Jessica is involved, but he'd rather have the seventeen year old explain her involvement to her mother herself.

"She's out."

"How often does she go out, ma'am?" Morgan asks.

The woman hesitates. "You see, she's been getting into trouble. Drugs, dropping out, and occasional fights. Kidnapping a federal agent is a bit drastic, even for her-"

"We believe she's putting blame onto the BAU for her father's death."

Hotch's explanation makes sense to her, obviously, from the guilt to consume her.

"I should've raised her differently. I should've told her just how horrible her father was instead of letting her produce an answer herself. This is all my fault-" Small cries interrupt her speech. She rests her face in her hands, and Hotch reaches over to pat her shoulder.

"We understand this is hard. We just need to know where Jessica could be right now. A building she talked about, maybe? Abandoned, in a remote location. You'd think it was weird for a girl of her age to hang out there, but she was with others. The name Cole-"

"Oh God, this all revolves around Cole."

"Where do her and Cole hang out?" Morgan prompts.

"She came home high last week. Cole was with her. They hid up in her room, talking for hours. When he finally left, I yelled at her. He's older, and that's not the crowd to hang out with, y'know? I'm not sure where they go to."

Hotch nods, frustration rumbling inside him though his tough exterior doesn't show it. Morgan thanks the woman for her time and they head for the door, each praying that their genius isn't in any pain.

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Prentiss is mad. She doesn't like the fact that she was left behind, and she's angered further because no one is easy to profile. None of them seem to understand that their boss did anything wrong, other than higher some under-aged druggies.

Garcia calls, reporting back to her all the info she got from doing background checks on the other workers.

"Anything good, PG?"

"I wish. They're far from clean records, but it's all small stuff. Theft, drug possession, even a few for distributing drugs," the tech says. "Morgan let me know that they didn't get anything from Jessica's mother. JJ texted me that the drive around with Rossi isn't doing much."

"How is it possible that they're pulling it off? She's a minor, and he's a druggie. We're the damn BAU team." Prentiss sighs.

"Wait- he's a druggie. He knows how to get a hold of anything he wants." Garcia gulps. "You don't think his sister told him about Reid's last abduction, do you? You know- about the dilaudid?"

"Oh no." Prentiss says. "The secretary can pull up practically any files. All she'd have to do is read the report on what happened."

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Jessica stares down at the limp girl in front of her. Cuts litter her body, and her eyes are falling shut from the loss of blood. For the most part, Jessica didn't get what she really wanted- a win. Alaska only let out a few screams and grunts, along with some tears, but she kept her glare on her captors the whole time. When the knife was finally tossed aside, her mind was too exhausted to process it.

Until the syringe was picked up.

Alaska flails, eyes wide. The substance doesn't worry her- it's the needle. She forgot to mention that little phobia to Spencer when they had their heart- to- heart.

Jessica's eyes light up with the pleasant surprise. "You're afraid of needles? Isn't this just my lucky day."

She sticks it in the crook of her arm, Alaska screaming for her to stop. The sight of her blood dripping to the ground doesn't nearly phase her as much as that damn needle pricking her arm. The plunger is pressed down, the drug forcing it's way through her system.

When the struggling ends, Jessica pulls the needle out and throws it away.

"What do we do now?" Cole sighs.

"Spencer should be waking up soon." She smiles, heading out the door without further explanation.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18 **God, this is such a filler chapter, I'm disgusted with myself! **

When Reid opens his eyes, he immediately regrets it. Seeing Alaska covered in blood on the operating table is one of the worst things he's ever seen. In the three seconds his eyes had taken in the scene, the image was already burned to the back of his eye lids and his eidetic memory.

A soft groan tumbles from the girl's lips. The dilaudid is wearing off in her system, though not completely, just enough to let the pain register. Reid takes deep breaths and opens his eyes once more. The pain in his hand has ebbed since earlier, but it's still painful. When he looks down at it, he's surprised to find he can't see the bullet wound due to thick gauze taped there.

He looks up to where Alaska is as he tests his restraints. His hands are cuffed in front of him and he's tied down to the little metal chair with ropes. Nothing about the situation screams pleasant, but he knows it could be worse. The ropes could be tighter, as could the cuffs. He could've been shot somewhere more fatal, and at least Alaska's still breathing.

"Alaska?" Spencer calls. He needs to determine what is wrong with her other than the gashes running up her body. The bloody knife on the rusted medical stand seems to have been left there for display. Did she fall unconscious from the blood loss, or pain? As he debates it, his eyes narrow in on the syringe partially hidden behind the knife. Realization is like the knife being thrust through his chest.

They've been drugging her with Dilaudid. His past addiction is not only coming back to him, but it's being shared with Alaska as well. Tears gather in his eyes because he doesn't think he can watch her go through that. Not when it's his fault. He shakes his head forcefully. The room spins for a minute, but it has the clearing affect he'd been going for.

_You're an FBI agent, dammit,_ Reid scolds himself, _stop being so pathetic_.

His mind starts to get back on track, thinking of new ways to escape. The bloody knife would be a great weapon, if only he could get the ropes off. If Alaska wasn't strapped down and out of it, she could help. Of all their time in this sanatorium, they'd only seen Cole and Jessica. Only two people to take down. Then find a phone to call for help.

"I can do this." Spencer whispers aloud for his own benefit, pulling against the ropes as hard as he can. But try as he may, it made no difference.

"Aren't you just the cutest thing?" Jessica says, swinging the heavy door open and entering. She's met with Reid's glare and a weak sound from Alaska. "You never stop trying. But, of course, you never get anywhere with that. You're just too weak."

That word is like a slap to the face for the agent. It's the exact word his mother used anytime describing his father while he was growing up. Being anything like William Reid is not a good thing.

"What's wrong, Dr. Michaels?" Jessica asks, feigning worry. Her fingers tightly grasp tussles of the woman's hair and lift her head as Alaska's eyes try to open. "Not used to Dilaudid, yet? It's only your second dose. You'll get the hang of it soon. Maybe Dr. Reid can help you out. Give you pointers."

The green eyes Spencer loves turn to find him, rippled with emotion. He sees the worry, pain, and sadness right away. What he doesn't want to think about is the confusion. Reid had no intentions of ever telling Alaska about his drug history.

"What, you don't know?" Jessica's fake gasp of disbelief makes Spencer cringe. He'd rather she was some big, buff guy that didn't care about inflicting emotional pain. Unlike the majority of physical pain, that crap lasts longer. It haunts.

Cole enters the room just then, two more vials of the drug in his hand. He holds it out for Jessica, who shakes a bottle in Alaska's face.

"You're lover boy used to see this as a lifeline. Once an addict, always an addict. I didn't pin you for the type to get involved with druggies." Her taunts don't phase Alaska, who believes it's all a lie. What does concern her is the disposable syringes the blonde girl is pulling out. "Did he tell you how he got his one girlfriend killed a few years ago? What was her name, Spence? Mae-"

"SHUT UP." He yells. The reminder of that part of his past opens new gates of pain, desperation, and trauma. The image of Maeve falling lifelessly to the floor next to the madwoman who shot her is enough for him to lose his breath. The air around him doesn't seem to be enough and his lungs won't work right.

"You pushed him into a panic attack." Alaska says, her voice scratchy and mind confused. Why didn't Spencer tell her all this, if it is true? If he is a druggie, and his girlfriend died, why couldn't he tell her.

_You've only known him for a short period of time,_ she reminds herself. She's so distracted that she doesn't notice the syringe being tucked into her arm until it's too late.

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The team didn't do much that night. Morgan and the girls ended up crashing at the BAU office, too tired to drive home. Hotch forced them to rest, claiming he can't work with a team whose dead on their feet. They knew he was right, but it didn't make them feel any less guilty for catching some sleep while their youngest member was suffering somewhere.

Garcia chose to stay in her lair, refusing to use a roll out cot that was offered. Her hoodie was warm enough to counteract the cold of her room and she was so exhausted she didn't notice how falling asleep at her desk is uncomfortable.

Rossi and Hotch chose to drive home, knowing sleep wasn't going to come easy. Derek slept on a couch in Rossi's office, the girls on cots in the conference room.

"Em?" JJ's voice calls out in the darkness. It's small and young, revealing the aura of innocence the blonde communication liaison has kept throughout the years of her job.

"Yeah?" Emily Prentiss almost laughs aloud. This is all ironic for her- JJ is the best of female friends she has besides Garcia, and it's like a big sleep over she'd have died for as a young girl. With her mother's and her's constant travel, she never got this kind of friendship growing up.

"What do you think Reid's going through right now?"

Prentiss pauses before answering, choosing her words carefully. "I think he's probably scared out of his mind, but refusing to admit it or give Jessica the satisfaction. He's probably wishing we'd save him, and thinking up a million ways to escape."

"I just don't get it- why him? If it were Morgan or Hotch, maybe my anxiety wouldn't be so bad."

"I get it. They can fight. They're classic alpha males. Morgan's like a damn bull dog and Hotch knows what he's doing. Spence- he's just- him."

"When this is over with, I'm probably going to freak out on him for being so important to me." JJ laughs humorlessly. Emily reaches out, patting her hand, before letting sleep consume her.

Derek, having heard the whole conversation due to the two open doors, smiles to himself.

"Bulldog?" He laughs, shaking his head. Prentiss's thinking never fails to amaze him.

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Jessica sits on the floor in her and Cole's 'office'. It's basically two couches pushed together with a big safe full of drugs in the back, next to the fridge of refreshments and sandwiches.

"They could get dehydrated." Cole points out.

"Then go give the mongrels water." Jessica sighs. He does as directed, rolling his eyes to show his companion his annoyance. The blonde takes the moment alone to use by going to the safe, clicking in the combination, and searching the vials for what she wants.

"Your stuff's in the back." Cole says when he comes back. Jessica has already found her poison of choice and is shutting the door to the safe, cringing at the loud screech it gives. The next step of her familiar routine is to shift through the drawers for a syringe. She takes the plastic wrapping off and carelessly tosses it to the floor.

Cole watches her with tired eyes as she injects the heroine. He grins as her eyes roll back in her head and the syringe is tossed on the ground. The man waits awhile, until he's sure she's far gone, before cleaning up her mess and laying her down on the couch. He's even feeling generous enough to throw a blanket over her petite figure.

The man feels like cursing the world. He and Jessica have been made suspects thanks to the stupid kidnapper Jess hired. She'd promised the two men wouldn't dare turn them in, but look at how that promise turned out. They have to hide out in their own prison. Because his nerves are about to run him up a wall, he gropes his pockets for his cigarettes and lighter. Jessica loves it when he smokes- she says he looks serious.

It's a strange relationship. At first, the drugs he gave her were in exchange for the quickies in the back seat of his car. But then she unloaded her problems, and he found that he pitied her. Only seventeen, yet carrying around loathing. So he gave her a job. Got her well known amongst the other drug dealers of the hood. None would dare mess with the girl- she's Cole's. It's well established, and they both liked it that way. He likes to think that it's more of a partners-in-crime relationship, rather than a full blown romantic relationship. This is the ultimate test of the compatibility; avenging the wrongs done to her. Helping with this was the true way of showing how much he cared for her. Cole may be twelve years older than her, but that made him more trustworthy in the female's eyes.

Now that their idea isn't going according to plan, he wonders about the future. Will they get that happy ending he wants? Will they run away to Mexico and make money off his drug connections, or turn themselves in? Though he hadn't heard anything about it, he assumes his sister is in prison. She'd been all too willing to help him spy on the BAU, even when she didn't know his intentions. Prison isn't appealing, but owning up to the successful plan is.

Cole looks towards his young love. Anything he does with her is worth the consequences.

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Cole follows Jessica's lead for the next two days. A few more cuts to the female doctor, this time down her arms and neck. Some more drug induced naps for both her and the agent. All the while, they leave them in the operating room. Jessica let it slip that she likes the fear it gives Dr. Michaels.

Each time the captives fall unconscious due to the drugs, Cole forced some dribbles of water down their throats and changed the bandages on the agent's shot hand. When Jessica asked, he promised it was all to keep the captives alive for more fun, not pity. Each time, she believed him without a doubt and went back to dig through her stash of heroine.

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Hotch was beyond frustrated. No new leads. No sightings on the car. Four days since he's heard from his youngest agent. It was tearing the team apart. JJ and Emily won't stop questioning everything, Rossi has become next to mute, Morgan has become tense and irritated 24/7, and Garcia has drastically changed. No more hopeful or sassy comments. No more bright wardrobe. Without their genius, it's like the whole world has changed to the six of them.

There is no more happiness in the BAU.

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Cole stops Jessica this time before she pushes the heroine through her system.

"J, what are we going to do?"

"What do you mean?" She asks, bloodshot eyes staring up at him impatiently.

"When does this end?"

"Give me two more days." The blonde mumbles, a tight smile brightening her face briefly.

"Then what? What do we do with them? What if the cops find us?"

"Jeez, chill Cole. He's going to jump; find out what pain he's inflicted on my father. This building is set to be demolished next month. All evidence and their bodies will be destroyed if we hide them well. If the cops find us, I'm prepared to go out with a bang. Enough questions."

The man watches his accomplice shoot up and lay back on the black leather couch. A ghostly smile has taken over her features and her eyes are barely still open.

"Cole?"

"Hmm?" He gently responds, laying down on the other couch, leaving her mess be for the night.

"Love you. Always."

The affection startles him, but he mumbles it back, staring at her the whole time. It's as her eyes shift shut that pieces click in his mind. She's so content lately. He'd assumed it was because of the revenge plan working out, but now he gets it.

_I'm prepared to go out with a bang._

It's like the words are echoing in his brain. Jessica's ready for a suicidal ending.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Spencer licks his lips when he comes to. He faintly remembers the water being trickled down his throat hours prior. That small amount hasn't done much when it comes to quenching his thirst. His skin eyes are still glazed over a little from the drug, and he knows the happiness in his head is the last of the dilaudid affects.

"'Pence?"

He rolls his head around to look at Alaska. Reid's eyes finding her's prompts her to continue speaking though her words are heavily slurred.

"S'rry 'bout your g'friend. And y'know, your past. I forgot to tell you- I'm afr'd of needles."

"19.2 million adults in the world have phobia's."

"Wha-?"

"They're twice as common in women than men. Roughly the age of seven is when phobia's set in. It's a very impressionable age. Some phobia's run in families. The four biggest fears are of spiders, flying, crowded spaces, and heights."

Alaska shifts and blinks away her haze as he rambles. When he stops, she looks back over, an eyebrow raised with softly lit humor. "Why do you know that?"

He shrugs, still confused. "We could die of starvation. Or dehydration, drug overdose, or- oh god, I really have to go."

"Huh?" She says, not catching on.

"I have to pee." He says plainly.

"Pansy." Alaska giggles. "I think I'd rather die from the drugs. Painless, right?"

"I don't like the thought of my organs shutting down while I'm too high to register it. Call me crazy, but I'd choose bleeding to death before that."

"You're crazy, Dr. Reid."

Spencer grins over at her, then quickly lets it slide off his face. "I don't want to die at all."

"Me either. I never thought I was one of those," She pauses, debating what word is right, "romantic types. But I guess I do want that. Late night movies, candle lit dinners, slow kisses, growing old together-"

Reid's heart sinks as her words are broken off by her sobs. He wants the right words to say- something to make her fears stop. He wants to promise that future for her, but it's way out of his jurisdiction. All the drugs they'd been given caused his brain to lose track of time. The more time to pass, the less likely their survival will be.

"Baby." Jessica mutters, coming in the room followed by Cole. She walks straight over to Alaska and slaps her. "Stop your blubbering."

"Leave her alone." Spencer growls.

Cole steps forward when the little blonde woman nods her head. Reid barely has time to brace himself before the first fist comes raining down, meeting with his cheek. The next few punches are much harder, pooling blood in his mouth and forming new bruises. For the sake of his fellow captive, Spencer lets out as few sounds as possible. Alaska's voice is begging for the man to stop, but her pleas changes nothing.

After all the beatings Spencer has taken over the years, he thinks this one is the worst. Never before had he noticed how much hatred is put behind a punch, or how much loathing a single person's eyes can contain. He's scared. No doubt to that- he's scared out of his mind that this is the end and Alaska will be forced to watch. Spencer would never admit to it though. As a FBI agent, it's his duty to take the beating and be thankful it's coming his way rather than Alaska's. It's what Hotch, Morgan, or Rossi would do if they were in his place. He was certain.

So that's exactly what he does.

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"Agent Hotchner, a woman is here to see you." A policeman says, stopping Hotch on his way to the coffee machine. The agent's irritation has reached it's peaked, having just replayed his early morning conversation with Strauss in his mind. It's a fresh reminder at what's at stake.

_"I'm sorry, Aaron." The stern woman says, her voice not even apologetic, "but you have no leads. You're wasting the bureau's time on a case that's gone cold." _

_"Please," He sighs, "Just give us the rest of today." _

_"You have other cases. Other people who need saving." _

_"Our priorities are with our lost agent. We'd like to get him back." _

_"Then you better do it today." Erin Strauss responded before waving him off._

He places his empty coffee mug off on a counter and follows the gentlemen to were a familiar face is waiting.

"Ma'am?"

"Agent Hotchner- I just, I guess I remembered something. It could be nothing. Maybe I'm being ridiculous to event think-"

"Please, just tell me. Anything could be a clue as to where your daughter is holding my agent."

Jessica's mother wrings her hands, feeling immense guilt. She raised the girl who is causing this mess. She has a duty to that little girl though, doesn't she? From the moment she signed those adoption papers, it was like the child's well being became first priority. How can she sell that once innocent child out?

"Jessica was interested when I told her about some old buildings that are set to be demolished soon."

"Which buildings?" Hotch asks, already pulling his phone out to dial the tech analyst.

"The hospital just out of town, since they built the newer one. An gas station down main street. The tax building just west of here. And an old sanatorium that's a few hours away."

"That is helpful. Thank you." He tells the woman, leaving her to go round up Morgan and JJ who are wondering around, thinking. Prentiss and Rossi are back at the Quantico office, retracing the missing couple's last steps.

Hotch has Garcia on the other end of his line in seconds. He re-lists the buildings for her and asks her to look into the history.

"I also want to know if there's been any activity around those places. Drug deals, arrests happening around there, even any suspicious crimes that seem as if gangs or drugs were involved, but it's not specifically stated."

"Hit you back in ten."

"Make it five. Today's our last day to work the case."

With that grim news noted, Garcia hangs up and starts searching.

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Prentiss feels like her adrenaline is going to consume her entire being. They're standing outside the old, abandoned hospital just outside the city. Though Garcia isn't done searching for each building's history, the team has decided to start raiding them anyway. It's a careless kind of move, but no one on the team is complaining. They refuse to waste another second doing nothing.

Morgan is to her right, using his strength to kick the door in. She follows him into the building, gun at the ready, Hotch behind her. The rest of the team and police went around through the side doors.

When they reach different hallways, Morgan goes straight, Hotch taking the left. Emily isn't given much of a choice, but she takes the right hallway, which is dimmer lit than the others due to the fewer windows. The whole place is silent besides footsteps exploring the building and doors opening. It's an eerie situation.

With each door that Emily opens, her hope gets deflated a little bit more.

There are more floors to this place, plus more buildings to check. She says to herself to keep the tears away. Her compartmentalizing is at it's worst as she walks down that dark hallway. We have to find Reid.

Footsteps seem to come from just feet in front of her. Emily blinks away the rest of the unshed tears and holds her gun tighter as she approaches the stair well with careful movements. As she reaches to open the door, it flies open before her.

Prentiss's gun is centimeters away from another gun's barrel.

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Cole has finally stopped the beating.

"Spencer, I think you should start to say goodbye to your girlfriend." Jessica states. Her chest has gotten that familiar tightening sensation that goes along with grief. It's a big train of feelings that always leads back to the same source- the memory of her father.

She watches as the agent's eyes turn to see the female strapped on the table. The apology is written in his eyes along with some promise she doesn't understand. The exchange is so small, yet it snaps Jessica's patience. She steps forward and lands a firm swat across the agent's face. It makes his breath hitch and his gaze turn to the ground.

"At least you're getting a goodbye." Jessica states, turning back to Alaska. The captive is holding back tears in defiance. "All I got was a coffin and the title of a murderer's daughter."

The silence that follows the words is practically deafening. Spencer's expecting the gun to be blasted in his face, ironically granting his earlier confession to Alaska about wishing to bleed out rather than overdose. Now, a lethal dose of dilaudid sounds ridiculously merciful.

"Cole, give them their final meal. I'm feeling generous today."

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Prentiss lowers her gun instantly when she sees the face behind the gun is JJ. They both breathe a sigh of relief, then smile with grim sadness.

"It was stupid, but I hoped this would be the place where this all came to an end." JJ says after yelling the area is clear. The female agents walk back to the hospital's lobby together, guns limply in their hands.

"I was hoping too." Prentiss admits. "But we still have more places to go-"

Her sentence cuts short by the look on Hotch's face. It's one of impatience and motivation. He's on the phone and mumbling something before hanging up.

"Two places have recent suspicions of drug activity happening there. It fits; Cole's a drug dealer. Rossi, take Prentiss and JJ to the tax building. Morgan and I will take an officer with us to the sanatorium. It's hours out, so check the gas station too if you guys come up empty before joining us."

All the agents nod their understanding and head out.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20 **Sorry for being so slow on updating. Lately I've been reading more fanfics than I've been writing. I guess I'm subconsciously stalling cause the story is moving forward. **

Before Cole gives them their 'last meal,' he makes sure to take them each to the bathroom. It consists of nothing but a toilet and sink. There's nothing dangerous among the hidden room, not even a mirror which would provide glass. He's only giving them this courtesy because he refuses to have to clean it up if they couldn't hold their bladders.

Alaska goes first, walking on shaky legs. They throb with each movement. Holding back the groans is the hardest thing she's had to do it seems, but she does it for herself. No way will she give Cole or Jessica the satisfaction of hearing her torture any longer.

When she's left alone in the bathroom, the captors just outside the thin wooden door, she grimaces. The dirty bathroom is not ideal, but then again, what is in this hell hole? Alaska does her business, washes her hands a total of three times, and looks down at her exposed wounds. Only the deepest of them are bandaged, and she's somewhat relieved for that- her brain probably wouldn't process the worst of the damage. It's a strain to realize the gashes she can see are real.

_Knock, knock._

"Time's up." Jessica says, pushing the door open. Alaska lowers her eyes so they don't make contact and lets herself be taken back to the room. They have her sit back on the operating table, this time only restraining her legs and waist. It's not until they take Spencer from the room that she reaches down to struggle with the restraints. Her clumsy fingers are trying their best to work with the belt-like strap, but then sees that the bottom is looped through metal clips that reach under the table. She can't reach that end of them.

"Shit." She gasps, wiggling and trying hard to slide out of the straps' hold. When footsteps approach the room, Alaska instantly goes still, fearful of the knife's sting she may receive for misbehaving.

Spencer comes back to the room, mind trying to gage the distance between his captors and the bloody knife. It's then that his hazel eyes notice Alaska's free hands. All she has to do is reach behind her far enough to get the knife in her grasp. That piece of hope has him complying as Cole ties him back into the chair, this time with his hands loose enough to lift a bit.

Alaska and Spencer stay silent, staring at Jessica as Cole leaves. Neither want to antagonize the situation, but they both know something must be happening in the outside world. Jessica wouldn't just stop going outside because they hid in the elevators. She's so sure they can't escape, surely something else is keeping her here with them for the past days.

Reid's profiler mind had pieced that together quickly, noticing that her clothes have been the same throughout the days. Well, unless this has all been an extremely long 24 hours, which due to the drugs, he highly doubts. Cole listens to her as if he has respect for her, or at least a healthy fear. She has something on him, or he's afraid of her actions. With that kind of commitment between the two, Spencer sees no hope of turning Cole against Jessica. He and Alaska's survival depends on their own rebellion.

"Here." Cole grunts, shoving sandwiches and water into the captives' grasps. He and Jessica leave, his arm snaking around the young girl's waist.

_That explains it_, Reid says to himself, they're a couple. _She has him whipped._

His heart gives a little pang as he remembers having learned that word from Morgan. The memory hits him like a ton of bricks.

_They'd been driving around a city in Montana, heading towards a victim's parent's house. The victim had died a brutal death, and so Morgan was trying to bring some humor to him. He always does that- thinks of how to make Reid feel better rather than himself. _

_"See that, kid?" Morgan had asked, pointed to the left. _

_Reid lifted his eyes from the ME's report and looked. The car wash off the side of the road has a buff guy scrubbing at a convertible. Odd, considering the color and car model is so feminine._

_"What about it?" _

_"That man's whipped." The dark man chuckled. _

_"What?" Reid's face had scrunched up in confusion. _

_"It's when a woman has a guy wrapped around her finger, doing her every command. He's scrubbing his woman's damn car! Exactly why I'll take being single any day of the week." _

_The young genius laughed and looked up at Derek Morgan with amazement as he replied._

_"You're avoiding love because you won't wash a woman's car. Low, even for you." _

"Spence?" Alaska calls, bringing him out of the memory. He realizes then that the couple left, leaving them to eat in peace. Alaska is picking slowly at her sandwich, and he does the same. "What if it's poisoned?"

"It's not, she's not done with us that easily." Spencer answers, taking a long gulp of water. The plan of escape comes back to mind and he turns to the dark haired beauty. "I need you to try something for me."

"I already tried to undo these, I can't."

"No, I need you to stretch behind you and get the knife."

Her eyes light up with a fighter's fire, and she sets her food aside, laying completely flat on the operating table once more. She drags herself out of the restraints as far as she can before stretching her arm over her head and reaching blindly.

"To your left. Little bit farther." Reid instructs. "Back just a bit- yes."

Alaska lets out a pained gasp. Her joints are stiff and that required almost more flexibility than she possesses.

"Now, I need you to hide it. Put it flat, pointing towards your feet, and lay on it. Right behind your back so you can reach it when they undo the straps."

She does as she's directed, face going a little pale. "Spencer, I'm not a violent person. You should be the one with it-"

"They're expecting a struggle from me. You can surprise them." Reid explains, both of them registering the footsteps coming down the hallway. "Plus, we're out of time."

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"Clear!" JJ yells, lowering her gun and frowning. The tax building had been a strike out, and so far, the gas station seems to be one too. Emily and Rossi join the blonde, each yelling out clear from their own portions of the station.

"Let's join Hotch and Morgan. They have a thirty minute head start on us." Rossi says, heading for the drivers seat. Emily beats him to it.

"I'll drive." Prentiss says gently to the senior profiler. "Knowing Morgan, they probably have a sixty minute head start."

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"JJ messaged me. Both places were empty." Hotch tells his companion. Morgan has been speeding the whole journey so far and this troubling piece of news does nothing but force him to go faster. The lights on the top of their vehicle have the other drivers around them frantically moving out of the way.

"We have to find him, man." Morgan says, voice seemingly made of steal.

"We will."

"I mean today."

"We're trying."

Unfortunately, his boss's high hopes aren't enough to lift his own.

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Cole first goes to both the doctors and collects their scraps for the garbage. He can tell by Jessica's little sigh that his cleanliness annoys her. It's a necessity to him, though. Cole feels that he must clean up this mess that has already spiraled out of his control.

When he undoes the restraints, on Alaska, he notices the look in her eyes. It's one of fright and anticipation. He shrugs it off, thinking that she must be wondering what plans are in store for her.

But when metal slices down through his neck, he realizes it was all due to what she had in store for _him_.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Dr. Spencer Reid is caught up in the moment. He sees Alaska's hand grasp the knife's handle tightly then swing it around her and jab it through his neck. The relief Spencer feels is accompanied by fear a second later. He just watched his girlfriend make a fatal stab to a man's neck- he has no right to be positive about the situation.

The horror on Alaska's face reminds him of the emotions he'd felt after shooting Philip Dowd. Killing someone is never easy, even when it's a life or death situation. Reid's mind estimates that the nightmares will be worse for Alaska than they were for him. He'd seen dead bodies and murder scenes before killing a person himself. Alaska has just jumped off the deep end.

_On his command. _

"NO!" Jessica screeches. The sound stops all emotions in both the agent and companion's minds. They must stay focus to live.  
All the focus in the world can't save Alaska though as the gun is pulled up in Jessica's hand and careless aim is taken. Spencer struggles as hard as he can, shouting uncharacteristic profanities all the while. The deed is done though; his girlfriend lay on the floor next to Cole's pale and lifeless body, face down. The image will no doubly haunt the profiler's mind for years.

"Shut up!" The angered blonde yells, swinging the gun to face Spencer. He stills, scared out of his mind, eyes wide an unable to look anywhere but the pool of blood around Alaska. He can very faintly see her shoulders move with ragged breaths.

The genius's mind swallows the situation despite it's horrific contents. Cole is dead. Jessica shot Alaska with the intentions to kill. Her restraint snapped. If the young blonde were to realize her shot through the other female's abdomen wasn't fatal, she'll finish her off. The profile has never been more clear. Reid's mind clicks together the final piece of the puzzle.

The allusion of a justified murder has been burned into Jessica's mind at a young age. She's following through with it now. That's how she justified her actions. In her mind, Spencer deserves to die for the death of her father. Her father's death had been for the lives of his victims. It's all a biased justification of murder. Alaska wouldn't have been killed unless she 'deserved' it. It explains the snakes in the basement and the gashes with the knife- Jessica must've been trying to provoke Alaska. She wanted a reason to kill her, and Spencer just made a plan that gave her just that. Now, he must distract the blonde and finish this on his own, somehow keeping Jessica as far away from Alaska as he can. The safest way to do that? Feed into Jessica's delusion.

_This is just like what happened to Maeve._ A dark part of him taunts. _Your plan didn't work then, it won't work now._

He fights the taunt._ I will _**make**_ it work._

Jessica crouches next to Cole. She pulls the knife from his neck, her eyes never leaving Spencer's face. The fear she sees there is actually his worry over Alaska's last chance to live. He knows if Jessica would just look down at her, she'd see the short pants for air and little movement of her fingers twitching.

To Jessica, Spencer's fear confirmed that she won.

_It's time to finish this._

Reid doesn't move an inch, full attention on the knife in the seventeen year old's hands. It comes forward in a swift swipe, cutting the ties from his hands. In two more movements, his legs are free as well.

"Up." She says. With a knife in one hand and a gun in the other, a plan formulates in her mind. This is all she's ever wanted all along. She's had a taste of murder, and it tastes wonderfully of purpose.

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Penelope Garcia feels sick. The team is rushing off all the while she sits safely in her lair. It's almost two in the morning. They could've already found him, dead or alive, and she gets to be the last to know. With a burst of anger controlling her, she sweeps her hand across her desk, throwing her monitor and papers to the ground.

The sight of destruction gives no comfort.

Instead, the blonde analyst feels tears streaming down her face. Her breath is coming to her in little sobs. She knows Spencer Reid is not okay. When her family is hurt, so is she. That's who Penelope is.

Crime scene photos of her parent's death flash through her mind. She hadn't been meant too see the pictures, but she hacked a few files. They'd only taken the photos incase the drunk driver plead not guilty, then stored them after he plead out. No one knows how that incident still haunts her.

Will this be a repeat of the past? Will Garcia have pictures of her best friend's dead body to add to the collection of painful memories? How much sunshine and cheer will it take this time around to keep her feeling like a human being? Is there any amount that will be enough?

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Spencer tries his best not to look down. He's standing on the ledge of what seems to be death disguised as a seven story drop to the pavement. Reid can see nothing but the parking lot below, the moon above, and Jessica's gun behind him.

"You don't have to do this." Reid says. He's never been afraid of heights, but near-death anticipation seems to have that silly effect on people. It creates new fears and makes the ending worse.

"But I do." Jessica says. Her voice is set at a near whisper because it disguises the enjoyment and peace that's filling the gap in her chest.  
Spencer takes a second to wonder if God exists and if his life is one that could be deemed worthy of salvation. He's killed two people, maybe four if Cole's and Maeve's lives were really ended because of him. Only twice has he been inside a church, though he memorized the Bible and could recite it thanks to his eidetic memory. He thinks he's a fair person- never stolen, betrayed, or purposely done wrong. He devoted his life to saving people and buried himself in his work.

Yet, somehow, he still feels like he's being punished. His mother's illness, his addiction, Maeve's death, Alaska's dangling life in his hands- is this all the work of a generous God? Or is it punishment for his life's mistakes?

All this contemplation seems to take forever in Reid's mind, though really, it's only two seconds due to the speed his mind paces itself at. He reaches a conclusion- if God exists, then maybe it's not too late for him.

So Spencer Reid says a small prayer before making a daring move that'll either end or save his life.

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Morgan and Hotch turned off the sirens as soon as they hit the back roads. No need to let Jessica know their coming. If she feels trapped, she'd end it for their fellow agent. They're both feeling a rush of anxiety.

What if they're too late?

What if Spencer had been relying on them this whole time and they end up failing him?

It's those type of thoughts that have the agents jumping out of the vehicle as soon as it's set in park a few feet from the front door. Morgan tries the door.

"Locked."

They search the building quickly, meeting back up with the same conclusion- there's no way in but through the doors. Cages line the inside of the windows. The three fire escapes around the place are locked up with chains, and lead to more caged windows.

"Kick it down." Hotch sighs, gun at the ready. Morgan takes a breath before giving it all he has. He ends up falling backwards on his ass. The rattle of chains on the other side proves to be why. Hotch crouches next to Morgan, the night disguising them as they speak.

"We can't even get in the damn building, Hotch."

"Jessica and Cole got in somehow." He reminds the younger man. "If you were diabolical seventeen year old with murder on her agenda, how would you set this up. Females are neat, typically clean when executing-"

"There has to be another way in. Underground or hidden."

Hotch pulls his phone out and calls Garcia. She answers on the first ring.

"What?" She snaps, trying to hide her tears with the sound of anger.

"Tell us about sanatoriums."

"They house crazy people." The woman sniffles, mind swirling.

"I know you can do better than that, Baby Girl." Morgan commands, having heard through the speaker phone setting Hotch set the phone on.

Being that her main computer has been swept to the floor by her crazy emotions, she goes to her laptop and does an advanced search.

"The certain sanatorium I know you're wondering about," Garcia says, wiping the last of her tears, "used to house patients with tuberculosis before it was a sanatorium. Back in those times, they didn't know how to treat it. It was, like, certain death if you got it. Bodies were being taken out faster than they were coming in. The building was split up in seven floors- the basement, three patient floors, the kitchen on another, then the doctor wards, and the top is critical care unit. On the doctor's floor is a body chute."

The men look at each other with a grimace.

"How is it accessible from the outside?"

"It actually goes straight to the outside. Most likely covered by panels, or when the place became a sanatorium, they could've sealed it. But the passage has stairs going from first floor to doctor's ward."

"Thank you, Garcia." Hotch says before putting his phone away. "The chute has to be here somewhere."

They walk around the building once more, observing each wall, window, and crevice. A tree catches Morgan's eye. It's the only one around so close to the building, and it's surrounded by shrubs, completely blocking the wall behind it. He walks closer and sees a small gap that's been made in the shrubbery and what it's attempting to conceal.

"I got something." Morgan whispers to the microphone on his kevlar vest. Hotch is by his side in just moments and they look at the hidden tunnel. A gun shot is fired, motivating them to crouch down and go in without another wasted second.

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Spencer lunges at Jessica, slamming her arm sideways while she pulls the trigger. He tries to turn them, the full weight of his lanky body pushing against the seventeen year old. She fights back, bringing her gun down to attempt hitting him across the face. Reid grabs her arm in a death grip and keeps the gun facing the sky before forcing her backwards. The ledge is lower than he was expecting and the girl falls backwards, face first, gun hanging loosely in her left hand's grasp as she falls.

He watches with a horrified satisfaction, but then luck must be in the girl's hands, because she reaches out and catching the railing to the fire escape with her free hand. The gun falls down the rest of the drop as they both watch the hard impact. Slowly but surely, she gains composure and pulls herself up.

Reid's hazel eyes meet her blue ones and he can see her plan when she pulls a set of keys from her pocket and unlocks the window with one, and the cage with another. The cage's hinges screech as they swing open. A steady hand grabs the bloody knife from her belt. Her mouth curves in a sly smile before she races inside. He turns to the door at the other end of the roof and does the same.

On the roof, he's a sitting duck without a weapon. Inside, Alaska may still need him. Surely Jessica will head back to the doctor's ward- it's the most likely place Spencer will get a weapon.

He races there to find Alaska sitting up. Her hands are pressed down on her stomach and they're covered with blood. Tears are drying on her cheek as she stares at Cole. She doesn't hear or see Spencer when he runs for her. Alaska just feels hands around her, which seem to be pulling her from her shock and to her feet.

"Jessica's coming back. We have to move." Spencer whispers roughly. Alaska can't do anything but act on autopilot, so she helps Spencer by following him through the maze of their prison. Blood seeps down her bare legs from her wound, and it's sickening. There's so much of it, yet she can't feel much of the pain.

"Reid!"

Before his mind can even react to who it is, his best friend is in front of him. Spencer shakes his mind, believing it's a hallucination. It has been a while since the last dose of dilaudid…

"Where's Cole?" Morgan asks. Hotch soon joins them, having came up empty on his sweep of the floor.

"Cole's dead." Alaska says, eyes flat. The two agents then realize the blood covering her and her appearance, as well as the thick bandage around Spencer's wrist.

"Who shot you?"

"Jessica. Then she took Spencer-" Her voice cuts off as she recalls two sets of footsteps leaving, and only Spencer came back. But, he said she was coming after them once more-

"We struggled on the roof. She's here somewhere."

The sound of sirens fills them all with relief and worry. Morgan pulls his phone out and calls Prentiss. He has them cover the front and body chute. He hangs up and fills them in. Rossi is at the front, JJ at the chute, and Prentiss coming in through the chute to help Reid and Alaska out. Right then, the dim hallway lights flicker out. Spencer's heart rate instantly increases.

"We'll search for Jessica. She has no way out." Hotch summarizes. He leans down and takes the spare gun from the holster on his leg before handing it to Reid. "Get to Prentiss. This floor and up is clear, we'll head down the floors first. Follow behind at a safe distance. Keep Alaska close."

Reid nods, determined to keep going. The gun held in limp in his hand, awkward grip due to the bandage. The wrist throbs but his adrenaline keeps him from registering it. Alaska pulls herself in the present time and grips Spencer's waist. He returns the hug before they follow feet behind the other agents. In the stairwell, Spencer's own breathing seems to be heavily exaggerated. Some kind of commotion down the fourth floor sends Morgan and Hotch dashing through, saying for the couple to stay put, towards the danger. Spencer keeps moving down the stairwell until they reach the third floor.

"We should just keep going downwards." Alaska mumbles.

"No, we should wait for them." Spencer argues. They do as he says, waiting for something to happen. He wants to run down to where Prentiss is on the first floor, but he knows Alaska is struggling to walk their slow pace, let alone run. Spencer uses his good hand to help her apply pressure to the wound as they wait. He feels the exit wound and sighs. With his knowledge of anatomy, he knows only the small intestine was hit. On her empty stomach and post-drugged state, she shouldn't be feeling it too much.

"What was that?" Alaska whispers. His head snaps around, having heard it too. The sound was faint, but clearly a footstep.

"Get down." He whispers back. She does as ordered and he shields her, gun at the ready. The windows on the left wall are no help. The moonlit sky isn't enough to light the hallway, or even give Spencer a shadow to aim at.

This is exactly why Spencer hates the dark- he hates what it masks and how it seems to always work against him.

"I am ending this, right now." Jessica's strong voice booms. It's closer than Spencer likes, and it's not until he feels a stab to his side that he realizes how slow his mind is working.

Exhaustion. Malnutrition. Cravings. Fear. It's all hitting him at once.

The gun falls from his hands, and he falls forward, onto it. His body is freezing up, but he still hears Jessica's snarl.

"You should be dead."

He even hears Alaska's little whimper before his good hand gets a grasp on the gun and he turns. A flashlight from down the hall lights up the scene in front of him as Hotch and Morgan are racing towards them, guns ready.

Spencer doesn't wait to be rescued, though. He won't gamble with Alaska's life like that, so he takes matters in his own hands. He pulls the trigger and watches as Jessica falls.

_This time, she won't be getting back up_. His eyes watch the blood pool from the side of her head before his vision goes blank.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22 **Sorry for the wait, I'm trying to work around my writer's block. I'd really appreciate some more reviews, if possible. Enjoy! **

Jennifer Jareau watches with blurry eyes as her best friend is loaded into an ambulance, body limp and blood soaking his clothes. She's numb. It's been nearly a week since his disappearance, and the fact that it's over almost sends the blonde into shock. The whole team is gathered around, watching along side her. They all feel it too,- that anxiety leaving and replaced with relief. The feeling is revolutionary.

A paramedic walks by, supporting Dr. Alaska Michaels to get her to a stretcher. The poor woman is dressed in only her undergarments and Spencer's finest dress shirt, half the buttons missing. Gashes run up her thighs and chest but none of those compare to the gun shot wound to her abdomen. The only way she could walk out of that building with so much stability is the prospect of shock.

"She's so traumatized she can hardly feel it." Morgan says, sadness in his voice.

The final things to leave the building are the body bags. Both Jessica and Cole lost their lives over a senseless fit of blame. Parents lost their children, family members lost a piece of them, friends lost their other halves, and the team at the BAU lost their sense of safety. What do credentials and a gun do if you're attacked in your home? Where do those profiler skills go when you're fighting for your life?

"What did you guys find in the building?" David Rossi asks an investigator who walks by.

"Evidence that drugs played a big roll in this. Needles, syringes, vials; the lot. We have to break into the safe to know what all is stashed here."

The body bags are rolled into their appropriate vehicles, which forces anger to surge through Emily Prentiss.

_Death is too merciful for them,_ she snarls,_ what they've done doesn't equal forgiveness._

"If you don't mind, we'd like to survey the crime scene with you. It'd be a personal favor for the BAU." Rossi says. The man shrugs.

"Not a problem. We'll wait until sunrise so we can see what we're doing."

"Morgan, Prentiss, JJ, go to the hospital. Call Garcia and let her know. Dave and I will search the scene and join you when we're done." Hotchner orders. He wants them all to get away from this place. If something terrible happened to his agent, this crime scene will likely tell him.

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"What happened when you guys found them?" Prentiss asks.

Derek leans his head back against the seat and presses his foot down an inch harder on the gas pedal. "We tried to get them down to you. A noise took away our focus. Jessica snuck down the other stair way and got to them in the corridor. Stabbed Reid and would've gotten Alaska if Reid didn't shoot her."

"How'd he get a gun?"

"Hotch lent his spare."

Prentiss gives a stiff laugh. "He thinks of everything."

"Did the paramedics say he'd be okay?" JJ's soft voice buts in.

"They said the stab wound wasn't serious. He more than likely passed out from exhaustion or loss of blood from the shot he took to his hand."  
JJ winces and looks down to her own hand. How would it feel to have a bullet go through all those delicate bones? A shudder accompanies the thought.

"What if they drugged him? He can't go through that again." She says. Memories of Spencer showing up at her door on late nights come to mind. He'd be frantic and fighting the cravings, needing a distraction, aka visiting time with Henry. The child would take all his attention away from the bad.

Neither of her coworkers respond, too lost in their anger at the week's events.

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"Hey Baby Girl."

The voice is smoothed over with all joyous things that Garcia is immediately flooded with relief.

"He's okay?"

"Nothing seems life threatening. Same for Dr. Michaels."

"Good," She answers, a smile slowly finding it's way onto her tear streaked face, "That's really good."

"Jessica and Cole are dead. His cousin who works with us was apprehended; I just got the call when we pulled into the hospital." Morgan tells her.

"Did the doctors say what all happened to them?"

"Not yet, I'm waiting with Emily and JJ."

"Where are Hotch and Rossi?"

"Going over the crime scene." Morgan runs a hand over his head, knowing he should've stayed back to help the other men. His eyes flicker to Prentiss and JJ, on either side of him. While JJ is talking in a low tone to Will about Reid's rescue, Emily is out. Slight snores are finding their way out and she slowly tilts her head, sinking in the hard hospital chair, until her head is resting against his buff shoulder.

"What's so funny? Nothing about this is funny, Derek Morgan-"

"I know it's not funny. I'm laughing at Miss Badass falling asleep next to me and using me as a pillow."

"Emily? With her guard down? I'll be there in ten."

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"Let's start from the ground up." The lead crime scene investigator calls. He introduced himself as Tray, and his two helpers are Nadia and Randal. Both of them are younger and much more anxious to explore the sanatorium than Tray.

Nadia is going down the east wing steps first, and suddenly, she shrieks, turning and running. She flies past Hotchner and Rossi, who immediately draw their guns. Tray ushers the agents in front of him as Randal goes after his partner.

What they see isn't nearly what they were expecting. Snakes, everywhere throughout the basement. All different colors, and different types. Tray sees that there's no danger and starts snapping pictures of them all.

"Clearly these didn't just find a way down here. One species, maybe. All these different kinds- not likely." Rossi concludes. "Someone put them down here."

"I think Alaska had some bite marks. I thought they were just small cuts from the knife…" Hotch says.

Tray carefully maneuvers around the basement, stopping when he comes to the door Alaska had been trapped in just days prior. He takes pictures of the dead bolt on the outside, then of the snakes slithering throughout the room.

When he slowly inches in the room, he sees dots of dark red staining the floor. Tray takes samples from the blood and stores them in his coat pocket for safe keeping. When he rejoins the agents, he tells them of his find.

"Maybe Jessica was recreating the events her father did? Having people face their fears?" Hotch theorizes aloud.

"If Alaska was bit, she must've been kept down here. So that's her fear. What's Reid's?" Rossi asks.

"He's afraid of the dark." Hotch shrugs.

The three of them rejoin Nadia and Randal. The young girl is breathing heavily and shaking. Randal seems to be caught in the decision to laugh at her terror.

"Let's move on." Tray demands. The next thing they find interesting is the closet the next floor up. The investigators find hairs on the floors and scratches on the door. Someone was locked in there.

Hotch stares at it.

"It's dark." Rossi says, speaking the other agent's thoughts.

When they reach the doctor's ward, Tray is snapping pictures left and right. Signs of struggle are everywhere- scuff marks on the floor, the blood on the operating table, the syringes filling the trash cans, and the ropes laying on the floor.

"These were cut off by somebody." Randal says, picking up the ropes after photographing them. Rossi and Hotch are a bit too preoccupied to think about what he's saying.

This very room was Reid's personal hell. Their genius was kept in here, and if the abundance of vials mean anything, he was being drugged around the clock. They take an inference that the blood splattered on the table and floor belongs to Alaska, and the marker on the floor around a larger puddle of blood marks Cole's death.

"This is like a horror movie come to life." Nadia sighs, breathing the stale air in.

The next place they find interesting is what must be the captor's hide out. It contains the safe, which Randal gets to work on after photographing. Nadia and Tray go through the trash, finding more empty vials, syringes, and needles.

"Evidence of drug use." Tray declares, shaking his head. "No wonder the people are so sick in their heads."

The safe pops open, finally, and they all stare at it's contents. It's like every druggie's paradise. Many vials, marked by color as to what they are. Yellow for dilaudid, purple for heroin. Syringes wrapped in plastic are contained in a cardboard box, along side sterilized needles and stacks of money.

"We're done here. We've seen all we want to see." Rossi says, watching the investigators do their work. They nod their farewells and the agents head out, minds swimming.

"Why'd it have to be Reid?" Hotch sighs, starting their vehicle's engine.

To that, Rossi has no answer.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23 **warning: the end of this chapter is ridiculously fluffy. The story isn't over yet, so don't stop reading! Review, please!**

Garcia smirks as she enters the waiting room, her eyes drifting to the sight before her. Emily Prentiss, kick ass FBI agent Prentiss, is fast asleep, cuddled up to Morgan's side. JJ and the handsome devil himself grin back to welcome her to their corner of the room. The aura is one of worry and anger.

The tech analyst takes a seat on the other side of JJ, the smile slipping from her face.

"Everything's going to be alright." She says softly, more for herself than the others. "Justice was served. The two who did this to our innocent Junior G-man are currently dead and never coming back to haunt him."

"Is death really justice?" Morgan asks, biting the inside of his cheek in contemplation.

Garcia takes a minute to answer. "I know, this is a horrible thing to admit, but if I were held against my will and abused like Reid, I wouldn't feel safe unless I knew that person was dead."

JJ turns her blue eyes to her best friend, the orbs expressing more relief in her friend's words than words could. "You're right. It's good that things ended this way."

"They're both alive." Morgan agrees, a slight nod of his head.

A knock on the door jam turns their heads. The woman standing there gives a small wave before coming towards them.

"You're Dr. Reid's fellow agents, I'm assuming?" She asks. The tight bun at the top of her head is holding together what seems to be an extremely large abundance of auburn curls and her blue eyes are as equally big. The woman is so childlike, it's strange to see her in such a high position like a doctor. Each of the three conscious agents hold back a laugh. She reminds them of Reid with her innocence and youth. "I'm Dr. Heaton."

Just as the introduction is over, Emily Prentiss squirms in her uncomfortable seat and opens her eyes. The sight of the stranger before them has her wide awake.

"Yes, we are. We need to know about both Dr. Reid and Dr. Michael's conditions… precaution for the case we're working." JJ answers. It's partial truth- they don't need Alaska's update right away, but they'd find out sooner or later.

"Of course," Dr. Heaton nods, "Dr. Reid has the lesser of injuries. Bruising, gunshot wound to the hand, shallow stab wound to his side, malnutrition, dehydration, and what appears to be a mild concussion. The gunshot wound fortunately went clean through and we reset what bones we could before stitching the area shut. The stab wound required stitches also, along with the gashes on his left wrist- all of which will heal on their own accord, as will the concussion and bruising. He took quite a beating, that was spread out over the length of a few days; I can tell from the different stages the bruises are in. Some slightly worse than others. Ligature marks suggest he'd been restrained for a long period of time. What concerns me the most thought, is none of the above." She has to pause, worried of the agents around her and their response, "The track marks along his arms suggest that he's been periodically drugged. We ran some tests and found traces of dilaudid. With his past drug history that I saw recorded on his chart- this is by far the most serious of the damage done. He'll have to stay here for the length of his detox to make sure his malnutrition and dehydration become worse."

"And Dr. Michaels?" Morgan asks, grinding his teeth.

"She has it a bit on the worse side. Also periodically drugged, bruised, with malnutrition and dehydration. The gunshot wound to her abdomen needed surgery to repair her intestines. The majority of the gashes along her thighs took stitches- twenty four of them to be exact. There also appears to be smaller cuts on her body, but I can't quite figure out what caused them. Ligature marks as well. Too much time has passed for a rape kit to be useful, but… there are most definitely signs of sexual assault. She'll have to stay until her detox is over too."

"When can we visit them?" Garcia sighs. She wants to cry, but her eyes are too sore to produce anymore emotions.

"We kept Dr. Reid off narcotics, but the low grade pain killers should keep him out for a few more hours. For Dr. Michaels' surgery, she was put under anesthesia, which won't wear off for a good remainder of this morning. By afternoon, they should both be okay for socializing."

"Would you mind if- due to the circumstances, one of us stay here until then?" JJ asks.

The childlike woman nods with a small smile. "Room 215 for your agent, Room 218 for Dr. Michaels."

When she leaves, Prentiss turns to Morgan with a glare.

"How could you just let me sleep?"

"You were tired, Emily. It's fine. Staying awake wouldn't have made a difference." Morgan rationalizes. His friend's anger is somewhat amusing.

"It makes a difference to me-"

The argument is interrupted when Hotch and Rossi walk through the doors to the waiting room. JJ explains what Dr. Heaton told them.

"We'll tell you about the sanatorium tomorrow afternoon. Right now, we all need to go home and sleep. This place is the safest for Reid and Dr. Michaels." Hotch answers, taking in Emily's dazed state, Morgan's yawns, and Garcia's puffy eyes.

"I'll stay here tonight." JJ says. When Moran goes to protest, her usually pleasant eyes turn to resemble a storm cloud, cutting off his argument.

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Spencer has to blink a few times before his eyes cooperate with what his mind is trying to will them to do.

_The sanatorium. Alaska, shot. Jessica- coming for them-_

His heavy eye lids finally understand the importance of the moment and lift, revealing what feels to be the brightest shade of white he's ever seen. They slam shut once more.

_White…beeping…numb…hospital. I'm at the hospital._

It's then that his lack of pain becomes worrisome. His eyes open and ignore the light, searching for the IV he knows is there. Something has to be keeping him from feeling the trauma or gunshot wound to the hand. Reid winces at that particular memory. When he locates the tubes connecting from the inside of his good wrist, he gently disables the medication from going to his veins by pulling the plastic tab forward. He'd rather feel the pain than allow himself be filled with more drugs.

That being done, the agent finally looks around. A familiar, petite blonde is next to his bed, slumped over with sleep in her chair. Her face is suspiciously streaked with what seems to be dried tears. He ignores the soar of happiness he feels to see her so he can finish assessing his surroundings.

The clock above her reads eight twenty. What he's not sure of is whether it's night or morning.

The room is rather small and private. The only color is the red digits on the monitor next to him and the pale blue curtains on the windows. The door is shut, a small window giving him a view of the empty hallway. Next to his bed, next to JJ, is a nightstand with a half empty bottle of soda and a notepad with JJ's loopy writing. He reaches for it, but his hand won't pick anything up; the gauze bandages around it too thick.  
Reid squints his eyes and leans until he can make out the words his coworker scrawled there- Reid, room 215. Alaska, room 218.

He turns to his wrist with the IV. Though the meds can't reach his blood stream, the tubing is still keeping him to the bed. With shaking and half numb fingers, he pulls the gauze patch off the needle, then pulls the needle out without much struggle. Next, he thinks logically.

They probably have an alarm on his bed for when he tries to get up. His good hand searches the sides until he finds the little monitor near the head of his bed. It only takes a second to figure out how to take the batteries out. The last thing disabling him from searching for what he needs most is the monitor. It's connected to the finger tab, which reads his oxygen levels, and the sticky pads that reads his heart beats.  
It's not easy, but Reid manages to get the monitors close to him by grabbing hold of the stand that holds them up and pulling it to his side. With just a couple of touches to the computer's screen, he turns his monitors off before unhooking the last pieces of equipment from himself and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

They feel like they're weighed down by lead, but the determination of seeing Alaska keeps him from giving up. He didn't just go through that horror in the sanatorium to never see her again. Before he lost consciousness, he remembers shooting Jessica. That doesn't mean Alaska didn't get severely hurt before he did so.

The part of his hallway is vacant. Down a little way, he can see what appears to be a nurses' station, which is alarmingly busy. Ladies in all different colored scrub tops are pacing the area with cups of pills, charts, or phones in hand. He creeps down the opposite way, in search of room 218.

He finds it so easily that a smile grows on his face. The sight of her- looking so peaceful in her slumber- keeps it there. The dirt, sweat, and blood has been wiped from her face and her hair has been pulled back in a low bun to hide it's messiness.

Reid sinks into the hard chair next to her bed when his knees feel like they're about to give out. Relief is all he has room to feel in his numbed and tired mind. She's safe, well, and resting, and he's beyond grateful. His mind flashes back to his prayer on the rooftop before he lunged at Jessica.

He wished for their safety, and here, in this little hospital room, it seems as though he got just that. The back of his mind is busy worrying at what comes next- the nightmares, the answers he must provide for his team, the aftermath of the horror he put in Alaska's life- but Spencer can't help but wonder if any of it really matters.

Can't being here, with his life intact and this beautiful woman, be enough for once?

When her eyes open and focus on him, the leap his heart gives answers that with glee.

"Hey, you." She whispers, voice thick.

"Hey yourself."

Her hand lifts, a small invitation that he quickly takes by slipping his hand in hers. They fit perfectly and the warmth he feels seems to remind him suspiciously of a promise.

"You don't look so good." Alaska tells him.

"Look who's talking."

Tears gather in her sparkling eyes, threatening to fall and expose her vulnerability. She blinks, letting them, before looking back to him. The emotion in her eyes reflect the relief he feels. Silence takes over for what seems to be hours.

"Are we going to be okay?" She asks finally.

"I think so."

"Then kiss me, just incase we're not." The grin on her face lets him in on her little devious plan she so quickly devised just to get him to kiss her. He leans over, his smile still intact, and lets his lips press down on hers, gently at first.

It seems that a floodgate is unleashed right then, because tears stream down her face as their kiss deepens and her teeth bite down on his bottom lip for more. He gives her all he can, opening his mouth to accept her tongue and bringing his other hand up to caress the fine structure of her face, wiping tears away as it does so.

They keep at it until oxygen becomes too important.

"You need to rest." He gasps.

Alaska moves over to the very edge of her bed to make room for Spencer.

"So do you."

"These beds aren't made for two." He protests. She just pulls back her covers so he can scoot in next to her.

"Good thing we're both scrawny people."

The agent rolls his eyes before giving in, his arms wrapping her up in his embrace. They don't speak from that point on. Alaska listen's to his strong heartbeat before she falls asleep. He tries his best to stay awake, but the warmth of the body pressed against to him brings too much comfort.

He falls into the safety of the blackness, not a care in the world


	24. Chapter 24

**God, this is such a filler kind of chapter. Sorry, I've just been so busy with tennis, and school starting, along with the typical high school shit, namely, parties. Anyway, I figured something was better than nothing. Here you go! **

Chapter 24

Aaron Hotchner walks back into the hospital the next morning, his heart feeling much lighter than the last time he was here. Well, that is until he walks into his subordinate's hospital room only to find his room empty and JJ fast asleep in her chair.

"JJ!" He calls, looking around wildly.

The blonde wakes up, blinking a few times. She looks at the empty bed, then back at her boss. "Where's Reid?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out." He snaps, harsher than he meant to be.

The communication liaison's face drains of color when she realizes the severity of the situation. She's out of her chair and racing to the nurse's station without another wasted second.

"Dr. Spencer Reid. Where is he?" JJ asks the lady behind the front desk's computer.

"Room-"

"Right now, I mean. I know his assigned room. He's not there right now. Did they take him for tests, or-" She's interrupted by Hotch's voice.

"JJ." It's that certain tone of voice of his that says 'shut up' that refrains her further. Hotch looks at the flustered nurse with a mock apologetic face. "Our mistake; we had the wrong room. Everything's fine."

The nurse nods her acceptance of the explanation before JJ's boss promptly leads her back to the other end of the hall by her elbow.

"What-" She asks.

"Just come look." Hotch sighs. He takes her to the door of Alaska's room, where they find Reid in bed with Alaska. They're both fast asleep, curled into one another's warmth. JJ barely resists the urge to coo the sight.

"They're so cute." JJ whispers to Hotch. He gives a shy nod of agreement before stepping forward. She stops his movement by grabbing his arm. "Wait- can't we leave them be?"

"The nurses will find him missing and cause a scene." He responds, pulling out of her limp grasp and walking to the bed. JJ watches with amusement as her boss takes the seat next to the bed and gently taps Reid's shoulder. He's being so uncharacteristically father-like.

"Hmm?" The genius mumbles. His arm around Alaska tightens and he shifts his legs. Hotch says something too low for JJ to hear, but it must be convincing because Reid opens his eyes and eases away from Alaska.

Spencer feels worse for wear- the pain meds have worn off and the throbbing in his wrist forces a few groans. Though moving is hard to do, it's moving away from Alaska that's the worst of all. She's so vulnerable at the moment and the comfort of her is better than anything he's ever experienced. Her even breaths are like the most beautiful melody he's ever heard- better than any Beethoven piece.

He follows his boss back to his room, trying to ignore JJ because the emotions her face reveal to him gives him a mixture of feelings from embarrassed to sad. The sadness is mainly for what panic he knows he put her through. A little part of it is because he knows that she must know about his drug intake in the sanatorium. Willing participant or not, he's back to being addicted. The white-hot craving is proof.

The drug would take the pain away.

_It'd make it all be okay. It'd feel so good-_

His feelings must be too evident because as he's laying down on his assigned bed, he feels Hotch's hand rest on his forehead, checking for a temperature.

"Are you okay, Reid?"

He nods, knowing that he may not be okay at that exact moment, but he will be eventually. So, really, it's not much of a lie, is it?

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Morgan wakes up to the sweet smell of chocolate chip cookies.

"Garcia." He sighs with a little smile. To save them both precious time to sleep, he'd offered to lend a room to her the previous night. She eagerly agreed on one condition- Morgan stopped at the store for her to pick some things up.

What she had planned wasn't hard to guess from the chocolate chips, flour, sugar, butter, and other classic cookie ingredients she picked out. Derek felt a pang of relief when he realized this was a step in the right direction. Maybe having Reid back will bring the sunshine back into Penelope.

Baking cookies at- Morgan rolls over to check his digital clock- eight in the morning is certainly a good sign. He throws his covers back and stares at the white ceiling over head. His house has never felt lonely before, but with the knowledge that someone else was in the house with him, Morgan felt much more peaceful than he normally would.

He can't stall getting up any longer- his dog Clooney has decided he's tired of waiting for his master. Morgan's door gets nudged opened by the large golden retriever before it flies across the room and up on the bed with the intentions of licking the largely muscled man awake.

"I'm up, I'm up." Morgan chuckles, petting his dog. He rolls out of bed and pulls on clean clothes before going out to the kitchen. The mess awaiting him is one that only Penelope Garcia could create- at least four dozen cookies lay on wax paper laid out over the counter tops and flour covers everything else.

"Derek! Be my cookie tester!" Garcia grins, grabbing a huge, gooey cookie and shoving it in his face.

"Good morning," He smiles, taking the cookie, "To you too." The man bites into it's goodness and eyes up all of them. "How many of these do I get?"

"A dozen. Two dozen for Reid, and another two for Alaska." Garcia declares. Her hair is piled in a high bun and she has her neon blue glasses framing her face. Morgan's secretly pleased to see them along with her very colorful choice in eye shadow and lipstick. "Now, we need to get a move on. First stop, my house so I can change and put these in tin containers, then the hospital so all this gets to the recipients of my love. Clooney has been keeping a watch on the mess I made, sorry, by the way-"

"Don't worry, Baby Girl, I love your messes." Her best friend smirks, stealing another cookie.

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The next time Alaska's eyes open, she's sad to find that she's alone. Did she dream seeing Spencer?

The indentation on the bed next to her and his lingering scent push that doubt away. She tries to sit up but the searing pain through her stomach stops her. To distract herself of the pain, she goes through her thoughts. It's more like a filing cabinet in her head, though nothing is organized. It's like 'pick a drawer and see what happens.'

She does just that and lets her first thought consume her energy- the fact that Spencer is dangerous to be with. He's part of the FBI, for god's sake. Nothing would have happened to her if it weren't for him, but yet, she'd do the same thing all over again if it meant having his hand entwined with hers at the end of the day.

"Oh no." Alaska groans to herself.

She hadn't anticipated in falling so hard for the adorable dork she met at a bar.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

_Pain is rippling throughout her body. It comes in frequent spasms now, each one elucidated by groans. Her overwhelmed body reacts when someone's hand is slipped into hers- she grips it tightly. _

_"Whoa, it's okay, honey." The owner of the hand says. "Alaska, you're doing great." _

_Her head turns a fraction of an inch to look up at the nurse. She's so damn cheery that Alaska wants to scream in her face. Doesn't she realize the pain she's feeling right now? Her feet are being held up as she squirms, searching for an easier position. Anything to get this baby out already. _

_The flames of pain lessen for just a second, and that amount of time allows her to register all that's wrong with this moment. The only people surrounding her is the medical staff. Every time Alaska pictured having kids, she always imagined a guy by her side through it all to comfort her. Right now, the guy who got her here is no where to be seen. She feels so alone in that instant that tears form in her eyes. _

_"We're ready. She's dilated at a ten." The male doctor calls. Nurses swarm around the bed, some students sitting in to watch the 'miracle of the hour'. That's all they view life as, right? Miracles? _

_She's pushing and pushing as hard as she can, breathing wildly through the pain, all with the orders of the nurses and doctors around her. All this for a baby that'll never really be hers. _

_It's not until the sound of smaller screams join her own that her brain catches on that it's all over. _

_"It's a girl- congratulations. Do you want to hold her?" _

_Alaska shakes her head profusely to the voice asking, tears of complete anguish falling over her slender face. She can't hold the child- can't introduce the pure baby to a complete monster like herself. _

_The surroundings shift to days later, when a familiar face walks through the hospital room door, a bundle in his arms. _

_"Cayden." Alaska says, voice as neutral as she can make it. _

_"Hey, I just got the call about all this." His face is as cheery as ever, aura bursting with pride at the little body cradled in his hands. Alaska wants to yell at him to get out and keep her away but her throat has closed up. Before she knows it, her arms instinctively come up to support the fragile body that's placed in her possession. The baby feels so warm Alaska wants to cry. _

_'She's your baby.' her mind tells her. _

_Another, sinister, part of her contradicts, 'she'll never be yours.' _

_Cayden rests a hand on her shoulder and takes out his phone. They smile for a picture before he coos the baby and laughs. _

_"When can we bring her home?" _

_Alaska's whole body tenses. She swallows hard. _

_"We're not bringing her home, Cayden. I have an adoption agency finding her parents." _

_"Wha- no. We ARE her parents." _

_"It's too late." _

_"No, it's not. This is our daughter, not some animal to sell." _

_"Just go. Nothing can be discussed. She's not ours." _

_The breathless type of agony is shown through his stiff posture, heavy breathing, and pained face. "You can't do this-" It's such a big contrast when compared to his happiness just minutes prior. _

_"You deserve this." _

_The face above her is no longer Cayden. Her limbs are strapped down and Jessica's terrifyingly beautiful face lingers in her line of sight. Alaska can't argue it, can't even scream, as the knife cuts deeply into her abdomen. It's right where her baby used to lay, and the reminder keeps her paralyzed. She does deserve the pain._

_Cayden died because of her. She'd destroyed his life; taken his happiness. Her daughter was given away to some strangers, "like an animal to sell," because she couldn't handle the responsibility. Alaska deserves so much worse. _

_The face above her changes once again. It's Spencer, who's staring down at her in shock. His eyes blink a few times, mirroring that exact image of Cayden's pain. With a hoarse voice, obviously choked with tears, he speaks. _

_"How could you-"_

Alaska's eyes fly open, breaths coming short between her sobs. The hospital room brings back the horrible memories; everything from going into labor to the painful wait for release later.

Never before had she regretted a decision so much.

Her sobs escalate so much that the monitor connected to her heart starts going crazy. Though it must've taken minutes for someone to hear it, it seems like the doctors are there in an instant trying to calm her.

"Alaska? Alaska, you're okay." They say, "No one is here to hurt you."

Why can't they understand? No one can hurt her worse than she's hurt herself.

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"Hey Spence!" Garcia calls loudly, bursting through the doorway to his room. Morgan and Prentiss trail behind her, each holding a container of what smells like his favorite cookies. Only the tech analyst can make chocolate chip cookies so delicious.

"Hi, guys." He grins, the smell of cookies bringing some relief.

"You don't look too good, man." Morgan says, one eyebrow cocked.

"Look who's talking." Reid jokes, swallowing his annoyance and working around his clouded thoughts. He wants drugs, but his body is torn between sweating it out, crying, and throwing up. It's not until the container of cookies is opened that the latter of the options wins out.

"Whoa." He hears Prentiss say as he leans over the bed to the waste bin. All that comes up is bile. The action makes his head spin and throat burn. Hands grab his shoulders and push him back to the bed when he's done. He registers their warmth and gentleness as Hotch.

"Just relax, Reid." Hotch says. Uncharacteristically, it's more of a helpless plea than order.

The smell of cookies go away, and he opens his eyes to search for the explanation.

"We set them in the bathroom." Garcia tells him. Prentiss perches herself on the windowsill, Morgan and Garcia taking seats. Hotch remains at his side, searching through the nightstand for something. Spencer closes his eyes to escape the dizziness and flinches when something cold is pressed to his forehead.

"It's to help with your fever." Hotch tells him.

So Spencer leaves the wet rag there, trying not to let the tears behind his eyes be shown to his co workers. The cravings are intense and his body feels like it's on fire, but he refuses to show that kind of weakness to them. He can't let them see the control drugs have over him.

"The detox should be over in roughly eight hours." Prentiss says, voice so soft that he knows his mask of strength isn't enough.

He lets his tears fall.

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Spencer turns his head and looks at Morgan with a deep feeling of anger.

"Leave." He tells him. The other three had left after sitting in silence for three hours. They promised to return, but got no answer from the genius.

"Can't do that, Kid."

Spencer pushes his covers aside and gets to his feet. At Morgan's protests, he grumbles.

"I'm going to see Alaska."

"You can't just leave-"

"Morgan!-"

"I can't let you. You're sick."

"Look the other way."

Morgan walks in front of the door to block the younger man's path. "Get back in bed. Five more hours, okay?"

"NO." Spencer screams at him. His emotions are tearing him apart. "I can't do this. Not again- I barely fucking survived the first time."

Morgan is shocked at the outburst but doesn't let his face show it. He grabs at Reid's shoulders and pushes the sick man back to the bed. When his legs give out and he's placed with his behind on the bed, Morgan eases up a bit.

"Listen to me- you can survive this. Five more hours. You can cry and scream all you want, and at the end of this, I'm only going to find you as a strong person."

"I don't care what you 'find me as'. I'll quit the BAU- but I. Can't. Do. This." As if to prove his anguish, he leans down to the waste bin and empties more bile, his skin growing flushed and mind swimming.

When he sits back up, Morgan is reaching for the still damp rag to wipe his mouth off. While he does so, Reid begs him with his eyes before speaking, his body rocking back and forth to help distract himself.

"Oh, god, Morgan, just- just kill me or something."

"You're gunna get through it, Spencer." Morgan promises him, exterior professional and calm though on the inside he's overwhelmed. His best friend just asked him to kill him to stop the pain. Spencer actually crossed that line.

So that keeps Morgan working efficiently for another three hours, the puking and sweating seeming to never stop, Reid's irritability growing until he does nothing but scream at every word he says.

JJ comes for the last of the detox, her eyes circled in black rings and her hair scattered about her face.

"How is he?" She asks, staring over at her colleague's shut eyes. Spencer hears every word but doesn't bother announcing his awareness.

"It's been rough." Morgan sighs. "I'll stay till it's over."

"No, don't be silly. You've done enough." JJ protests. Spencer's eyes fly open and his mouth twists in a grim line, fingers knotting in his bed's sheet.

"I'm not a child that needs babysat. You've confused me with your son."

The blonde's eyes widen before softening. "Henry misses you, Spence."

Reid swallows hard, unable to argue the topic of his godson. He loves the child a ridiculous amount and, truth be told, he's excited to see him again.

"Does Alaska have withdrawals?"

Morgan shrugs, and JJ clears her throat before beginning.

"I asked the nurses. Her emotions are a bit out of control, and she has a fever along with getting sick a few times, but they said it hasn't been too bad."

Spencer nods, his eyes looking to the window for some peace.

"Really, Morgan, go home."

"Alright, but call me if you need anything," the black agent responds, shoulders sagging. He plants a kiss on the liaison's cheek before grabbing his coat and heading out. She stands still for a minute before walking to the bed side and taking the same chair she'd slept in just hours earlier.

"I know it's been a rough day," She sighs, fiddling with her wedding band, "And it's probably the last thing you want to talk about, but it's all I can seem to imagine lately. Would you please, tell me what happened."

Spencer doesn't look away from the window, choosing to speak carefully. It's his Jayje, and he can't refuse what she wants, even this request. "They took us to an old house. While the one guy took Alaska to another room, I cut my wrist open with pieces of the broken phone so I could slip the handcuffs off. We hid in a cornfield surrounding the place, but they found us. Took us to the sanatorium. I didn't realize where we were until Jessica locked me in the dark. They put Alaska in a room full of snakes. I managed to kick the door open and find her. We hid in the elevators, but Jessica figured us out. We ran but her and Cole cornered us, I got shot in the hand. After that, we were kept drugged and Alaska was tortured. I- I couldn't save her-"

"You don't have to say anymore."

"I want to. I need to talk about it." He swallows. "They were planning on killing us. Cole left Alaska loosely strapped down, I talked her into getting the knife and stabbing Cole. I talked her into killing him, which then got her shot. Jessica thought she was dead, so she took me to the roof. She wanted me to jump, but I pushed her off the ledge instead. She caught the fire escape and went into the basement to cut the power. Hotch and Morgan found Alaska and I in the halls; she was losing a lot of blood. They went towards a noise, and Jessica snuck up on us. Stabbed me and tried to finish Alaska off, but I got the gun-" Reid's face flushes with swirling emotions. "But I, I stopped her."

"Yeah, you did." JJ tells him, one hand reaching out to hold one of his. "You saved her life."

"After I ruined it." He nods.

"Our job is never going to be easy."

"But why does it have to pull in the people we care about?"

"There is no answer for that, Spence. Somewhere in that big brain of yours, you know that."


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Tears stream down her face as her eyes dart between the nurses stationed in her room and the window. One woman had propped it open a little so Alaska could get air. After throwing up for the fifth time, the air around her had seemed so suffocating that she'd almost had a panic attack. Now, staring at the window, the thoughts swirling around her head aren't the worrying-for-safety type.

These are sinful thoughts that are wishing for a quick death, whether it be jumping through that god-damned window or stealing her own life with a pillow case. Anything would be better than the ache of withdrawal she feels throughout her body along with the steady throbbing in her head it brought along. When it all mixes with the guilt and grief she feels…nothing seems okay.

Suicidal thoughts aren't normal for Dr. Michaels, to say the least. But all she can feel is the man's rough hands over her body or the tip of the knife being brought down time after time again.

"Miss Michaels? Are you okay?" The plump lady next to the door asks.

"It's 'doctor'."

"My apologizes."

Alaska turns her gaze to her hands, trying to figure out what to do. The tears are nothing but a sign of weakness, which has to stop. She raises her hands and wipes furiously at her wet cheeks.

"Can I see Dr. Reid?"

"Right now is a very sensitive time for you both-"

"When can I leave?"

"There is about two more hours until we're sure the detox is over. Then we'd like an extra hour to make sure your body is staying stable."  
Alaska lets the silence consume her, testing her own patience. She'd like to scream or fight her way through the room until she's running all around this floor and finds Spencer. A knock on the door jam brings her from her wishes.

"Hello. I'm Penelope Garcia; I work with Reid. I brought you some cookies."

The blonde's peace offering opens up a little calm to Alaska's inner turmoil. She forces a grin and sits up further. "Come in. Sit."

"You probably shouldn't open them yet, the smell of food could make you sick- that's what happened to Reid earlier, anyway. Are you feeling better? The detox should be over soon."

The black haired patient nods hesitantly, at a clear loss of how to proceed with this social interaction. "Thanks, for the cookies. You shouldn't have."

Garcia smiles widely. "Oh, please. It's nothing, pumpkin. Anyone in Reid's good graces is automatically in my mega good graces, and I'm especially happy he has such good taste."

Maybe it's the nickname she's given or the heavy container of baked goods set on her lap, but Alaska begins to tremble. It's like her whole body is freezing all of a sudden, regardless of the thermostat across the room saying the room is eighty two degrees.

"What's going on?" Garcia asks, looking to the nurses.

"She's probably just overwhelmed." The red head states, checking to make sure nothing is wrong with Alaska's blood pressure or oxygen levels.

"Being raped and thrown in a room of snakes before tortured can do that to you." Alaska adds, sarcastically, glaring at the nurses. She takes acute enjoyment at the shock that flutters over their features. Had they thought she was just some druggie to look after? Did they even know the trauma she just went through? "Could I get some water?"

The way both nurses scurry out to grant her wish at once confirms that up until a moment ago, they'd been kept in the dark.

"I'm sorry." Penelope starts, "none of this should've happened to anyone, let alone you or Spencer. He deserves to be happy for once, but crap like this keep springing up."

"Is he really a drug addict?"

"What?" Alaska can see how her question has startled the blonde agent. She squirms in her seat before settling for crossing her ankles and clasping her hands together.

"Jessica had said something about him being a past addict."

"Maybe he should explain-"

"I can't see him for two hours. You telling me would put a lot of this worrying to end, and I swear, I'll never tell him you told. It's for my secret benefit."

"It- it's really nothing bad, so… we had a case in Georgia. I'll save you from the gory details. But the guy had three personalities. He managed to kidnap Reid. Took him to an old hide away of his. His three personalities were himself, his father, and an archangel. The angel made him make some…difficult decisions, the father beat him a bit, and the other personality kept drugging him. Reid never told us until a doctor mentioned the track marks at the hospital when we rescued him. Afterward, he had to wean himself off the stuff. Took months."

"So, his addiction wasn't voluntary." Alaska breathes a smidge easier, a weight having been lifted. "And…what happened to his girlfriend that was murdered?"

"Maeve…she'd had a stalker that wanted recognition, so the crazy woman took her hostage. Reid tried going in to negotiate, but…honestly, the lady was crazy. He probably still blames himself, but trust me, when I say we couldn't stop it from happening, we really couldn't. The stalker took her own life along with Maeve's. Reid watched the whole thing happen."

The room goes silent for a long pause, Alaska pensively twiddling her fingers. "What do you do in the FBI?"

"I'm a technical analyst. Find background info, hack stuff, trace locations, and dig into people's lives."

"Could you dig into mine?"

Garcia quirks an eyebrow in question.

"I mean, if you had to."

"I kinda already did. We had to do victimology when you and Reid disappeared. Sorry to breech your privacy and all that, but it really was necessary-"

"So you know about Cayden? And t-the baby."

"I'm sorry for your loss. Really."

Alaska looks to the window once more for comfort, a sigh escaping from her lips. "When Spencer and I were hiding out in the elevator, I told him. I told him how I wanted to find my daughter and be apart of her life. C-could you help me?"

"I know most of her info already." Garcia says, a sad smile in place, "Her name's Willow Holden. Her adoptive parents are in their thirties, with a medical background. She's well off, I even ran background checks on the couple and they're squeaky clean people. Not even a speeding ticket. Willow looks a lot like you."

Alaska's eyes widen until they're the size of saucers and tears fill them for what seems to be the thousandth time that day.

"She's had a good life?"

Garcia leans over and pats Alaska's hand just as the nurses come back with a pitcher of water and a stack of cups. She lowers her voice so only Alaska can hear. "One of the best."

CMCMCM

"I can leave now?" Spencer says, repeating what the doctor's just told him to make sure he's heard correctly. JJ is holding his hand in a lose grip, her smile the happiest thing he's seen in the past week.

"That's right. You just need someone to sign your discharge papers; you can't drive yourself home with the condition your in. The bruises will be sore, the wrist is going to have a long road to recovery, and you need to be sure you get plenty of fluids."

Reid throws his covers back then frowns. "My clothes were put in evidence, weren't they?"

"Sorry." JJ nods. "And your apartment is still closed off because it's a crime scene. I'll have Hotch bring you some-"

Reid shakes his head quickly. "I'll borrow something at Morgan's. He said I could stay with him."

"How about you go see Alaska while I sign your papers?" JJ suggests. "I'd imagine Garcia has annoyed her by now."

Spencer's eyebrows shoot sky high, not even having been aware that his co worker was spending quality time with Alaska. He hurries down to her room, ignoring the ache in his stiff body.

"Hey." He says. Two nurses are perched side by side on the window sill as Garcia is telling Alaska some bizarre story about baking. He barely grasps the words "and the sheet was as hot as Morgan-"

"You're out of bed!" Garcia squeals, jumping up to give him her chair and plant a kiss to his head. He blushes a little at the tech analyst's enthusiasm before sitting close to Alaska and taking her hand timidly.

"How are you holding up?"

"It's been a long eight hours." She says, deliberately not answering. He brings her hand to his lips for a kiss when he's sure Garcia and the nurses have left to give them privacy.

"I'm sorry it's been so hard."

"None of it's your fault. How was your day?"

"About the same, give or take."

"They're keeping me for an extra hour, but my door is wide open if you need a place." Alaska says, her voice coated with a hopeful tone.

"How about I come back with Morgan in an hour to take you home? I need clothes from his place first. A shower would be nice, too…"  
Alaska nods, a small smile ghosting over. "Kiss me before you go?"

"Of course." Spencer blushes, leaning in and giving her what she asked for. The warmth of her lips make the last eight hours of hell worth going through. He doesn't need drugs like he needs her.

The past week has given him a craving for her.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

"Look at you, look at you." Morgan whistles jokingly as his friend and co worker walks out of his bathroom, draped in borrowed clothing. His wet hair from his shower complete the "drowned cat" look.

"Very funny." Spencer blushes, pushing the sleeve of the navy blue shirt up past the bulky white cast on his arm. Morgan's clothes are far too big, which he probably should have taken further into consideration, but they're all he has for the time being.

"I think you would've done better going through JJ's closet."

Reid opens his mouth, ready to argue, but snaps it shut, reluctantly accepting the fact that Morgan's probably right. The black man's loud chuckle makes his locked lips twitch with the hint of a smile.

"I'll have the crime investigation unit release some of your belongings to me. You'll get 'em by tomorrow."

Reid nods his thanks and turns to pick up the small bag of supplies Morgan packed him consisting of a toothbrush, paste, comb, deodorant, and a few dollars. The last of which Spencer had argued, blushing profusely, feeling like such a child to need money from 'parent' but Morgan had put the cash in the bag anyway when he thought Reid wasn't looking.

"C'mon Kid, you can't keep Dr. Michaels waiting." Morgan winks.

Spencer's face falters, and his friend takes notice. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. What's wrong? You know you can stay here if you want-"

"No, I-I'm just worried about her."

"She'll be okay, Reid."

"But, Morgan, she's a rape victim. Most women who'd go through what just happened to her wouldn't be inviting a guy to stay at her house the day she gets out of the hospital." He states, eyes averted, fingers picking at the hem of the borrowed shirt. Morgan's brightly lit hallway leads off to the living room to the right, and the kitchen to the left. Each room's décor seems way interesting at the moment.

"Her mind could be shutting off that memory. It had to, right? She was acting normal enough while you guys were at the sanatorium, then at the hospital. The fight or flight instinct came on and she choose fight. Alaska probably wants you there to feel safer. You got her out of that mess, didn't you?"

"I was also the one who put her there in the first place."

"No, kid, no. Don't blame yourself for that-" Morgan says, pushing Reid gently over to his black leather couch to sit down.

Reid looks at his friend now, allowing himself to feel the situation he's really in. "I debated it. Earlier that night, before the guys got us, I took Alaska out to dinner. It was our first actual date. I thought of Maeve, and how if I really loved Alaska, I'd just turn around and leave."

"You love her, though, right?"

"Yeah, that's why I was just about to leave when she came outside. I said I had just been too nervous to go up to her door."

"What happened had nothing to do with you. Understand that already, man. Jessica was a deeply disturbed young lady, who needed to blame someone for her father's suicide and sick obsessions. She tried seeing method in his madness, and it just turned her crazy too. You can't blame yourself for not knowing her plans for you."

"I kind of can, in a way."

Morgan sighs, and tilts his head until Reid explains.

"I work for the FBI. Our everyday life revolves around murderers, rapists, and the horrible aspects of life. I've been in the situation before where work follows me home. Work becomes who we are. Bringing Alaska into my life is opening a floodgate of horror."

"That doesn't mean we can't be happy, Reid. Hotch had Haley, JJ has Will, and Rossi had his four wives."

"The prime example of what I don't want to happen is Haley."

"Foyet was one of a kind. You know that."

"Maeve was one of a kind. Yet-"

"This argument could last for hours. Yes, bad things happen. No, you shouldn't waste your life away worried about them."

"Thanks Derek." Reid says in a small voice, wishing the conversation had gone differently. If Morgan had told him he was being selfish for talking to Alaska, he'd have stopped all relations to her immediately, no hesitation. All for the sake of her safety rather than the acute puppy love he has for her.

"How about you show your gratitude and get your butt to her house, right now rather than think about it?" Morgan jokes, standing and pulling his car keys from his jean's pocket. Reid follows him out to his car, carrying his tin of Garcia's cookies and bag of supplies awkwardly in one arm.

Morgan turns the radio up, ignoring Reid's pleas for the awful sounds to stop, and thinks. He feels relieved Reid isn't alone anymore. Reid and Alaska is a good thing by far.

When they arrive at the hospital, Morgan pulls into the parking lot and tells Spencer he'll be back in a second.

Spencer sits on edge in his seat, counting that it actually takes Morgan 437 seconds to come back, Alaska in tow. She's moving slowly, with jerking movements, her hospital gown tied tightly around her. Her face lights up in a smile at the sight of him.

Morgan drives and turns his radio back on to fill the silence in the ride to Alaska's. The woman seems somewhat surprised that he already knows how to get there without asking. He watches them hurry up to the house, each mumbling a small thanks for being their chauffer for the day.

It's not until he's back in his own driveway that he looks down in his cup holder to see the extra cash he'd slipped into Reid's bag.

"Damn kid," Morgan chuckles.

CMCMCM

Alaska unlocks the door using the spare key under the porch steps, and ushers Spencer inside. When it's safely locked behind her, she surprises him by flinging her arms around his neck, face burying itself in his neck. Her mind had hard wired itself to always crave his presence throughout the past week, and now the setting can't seem to go away.

"Oh-" He squeaks in surprise. "Hi."

"C'mon, I'll put on some coffee."

He follows her through the artistic maze of the house, soothed by the familiar surroundings. She sets about to making coffee and he heads over to the book cases.

"I'm going to shower. Back before you know it." She smiles. He nods, pulling out a book he's never heard of and flipping through it, perfectly content.

Meanwhile, Alaska hops in the shower and turns the temperature up as far as it'll go. The jets of water sting her skin in the best way possible. It feels like the hands, guilt, and terror is rinsing off. She knows somewhere deep in her mind that she'll never be rid of the memories, but believing her own lie is so much easier to do than it should be.

She'd just gotten out and dressed when the smell of coffee really gets to her. It's so…normal that it's kind of bizarre after the kind of week she's had.

Alaska finds Spencer exactly where she left him, standing next to the book case, reading. A stack of book on the floor next to him show what he's accomplished in the past thirty minutes.

Reid follows her movements as she sets about starting coffee, books forgotten, eyes roaming her bruises on the revealed skin her tank top and shorts are showing. Her stomach is still bandaged heavily along with little patches where she received snake bites, but she looks good for the most part. Injured but alive. Her wet hair is in waves down her back, leaving water drops on her shirt and skin. He wants so desperately to ravish her in the affection he feels but can't bring himself to put his own desires before her needs. What she needs right now is space and friendly company.

"Thanks," He grins, taking the coffee from her when it's handed over. The mug it's presented in is white. He reads the blue cursive words aloud, "Why worry of tomorrow when you can do today."

"I have a whole bunch of mugs with cool quotes." Alaska blushes. "It's a bizarre collection of sorts."

"What does yours say?"

"It is now life, not art that requires the willing suspension of disbelief."

"Lionel Trilling?"

"Very good." Alaska comments, sipping at the drink. Spencer does the same, eyes drifting to her collarbone where a deep cut is, soon to become a scar by the looks of it.

"You read all those?" She asks, taking a seat on a kitchen stool. He looks over to the stack of books and nods, smiling back at her cheer. Somewhere in his mind, he knows this kind of normalcy isn't okay, but he ignores it. So what if they forget the pain they've had to endure for a little while?

"What's your favorite?"

"Looking for Alaska."

She instantly sits up straighter. "You read it?!"

"It's brilliant for a young adult fiction writer."

"Don't say it like it's just some genre. It's a total work of art. So, do you think she committed suicide, or not?"

"I don't think so. The human mind does so many things to preserve itself that when the wall came crashing down, her thinking wasn't right. She hit the car simply because her mind was too distressed to react properly to that situation-"

"Or, it could remain a total mystery." Alaska laughs.

Reid drops to the topic, saying just one last thing, "Your mother was right to name you Alaska, though. You're strong and beautiful, just like her."

"Flattery gets you nowhere." She says, contradicting herself by leaning forward to kiss him softly.

"How are you doing, Spencer? Really. With the whole drug thing-"

He leans away from her, shocked at how casually she brought it up.

"Sorry, I-I just- I'm worried about you."

"I'm fine. It's nothing." He says, then takes a long sip of coffee. Thinking of drugs is the last thing he wants to do at the moment. Alaska lets it go, awkwardly getting up from her seat and bringing over the tin of cookies Garcia gave her. They nibble on them in silence, each pondering how long this charade of normalcy will last.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28 **This is such a shit chapter. Writer's block is a fucking nightmare. **

The answer to the previous question is not long enough. Alaska had left Spencer to read more as she took a nap on the couch, claiming the moment of rest would only be for a few hours. All the actions previous to then had been nothing more than innocent. They'd just found her old games buried in the back closet and she taught him to play monopoly.

"These games teach you nothing," He'd said.

"Yes they do-"

"You learn to take over a world that doesn't exist."

"That's still something," Alaska had cheekily answered, leaning against his shoulder with dreary eyes. He'd suggested she rest, and she'd been too tired to argue. As Spencer watched her gingerly walk to her cozy bed, he cleaned up the game pieces and headed to the kitchen.  
Though Reid had never been much of a chef, he was now determined to find something in Alaska's decently stocked kitchen to make them both for dinner. Though he knows it won't be easy, seeing as one of his wrists is immobilized in a cast, cooking for her is the least he can do.  
He silently scolds himself for still feeling so guilty despite Morgan's earlier attempts.

Spencer's eyes raid the cupboards, landing on a box of bowtie pasta. A little grin comes to his face, along with memories of his childhood. It was a delicacy for him to come home from school and find his mother in the kitchen, preparing his dinner or a snack.

Diana had told him a million times of how her own mother would cook bowties in chicken broth, and how it'd always been her feel-good remedy. Maybe Diana didn't mean to, but she passed on that little bit of magical history to her son.

Spencer rummages around for cans of chicken broth, biting his lip with petty concern. Surely there's some broth in all these ingredients- yes! He pulls three cans out and swirls around on his heels to find pans. As the broth is brought to a boil, he drums his hands on the counter tops and heads over to the bags Alaska brought with her. The one is filled with hospital hospitality things that he himself had chosen to throw out. The other contains her medication.

She'd been prescribed the same type of pain medication has he had, but she was also given sleeping pills and antibiotics. He lines the bottles on the window sill above the sink. The window sill is too slim in width to easily set the bottles on, so he wastes time trying to balance them perfectly. Just as he's adding his own bottle of pills, a scream ripples the air. The sound of it is one that sends him back in time, panicking, running down the stairs, searching for Alaska.

At least this time when Spencer gets to her, she's not surrounded by snakes. Half of him had been expecting such. What he does find is Alaska shaking and sobbing into her pillows, her covers thrown off the bed.

"Alaska?" He says gently, hovering over her. When his good hand touches her shoulder, she sobs harder and she seems to be trying to say something, but the mixture of pillows and tears make their intent masked.

"Shhh, it's okay." He tries, moving a little closer. "It was just a dream."

With a surprising fit of rage, Alaska's body turns to face him and her hands swing out to push him away. It was so unexpected that Reid nearly falls over, only saved by reaching down to steady himself. He reaches with his injured arm though, sending flashes of red through himself.

"THAT'S THE PROBLEM!" Alaska screams, "IT WASN'T JUST A DREAM."

In her head, things are swirling out of control. She feels snakes slithering up her body, and the uncomfortable ache in her limbs from being strapped to the table. She can still feel the weight of Satan on top of her, and worse yet, intimately close to her. The bruises up her arms, circling the healing needle marks, serves as a faint reminder of the only reason she stayed sane those last few days.

Spencer just stares at the torture in her once clear eyes, wishing he could take it all away. He watches the blind panic become focused and flash between anger and guilt.

"I'm, I just can't- Are you cooking something?" She says. Her labored breaths cut through the words like knives and her hands come up to fist in her hair. Spencer reaches out a hand for her to take and leads her out to the kitchen, where he adds the pasta to the boiling broth. They take a seat on stools, each at a loss for words.

"What was it about?" Spencer says finally.

Alaska just stares at him with dark eyes.

"The dream. Just tell me."

"Cam and Satan."

"What happened in it?"

"You already know." She chuckles humorlessly. In the kitchen's bright lights, her vulnerability seems to increase by margins. It's like they shine deep into her core and Spencer just observing it all.

"I'm sorry I couldn't stop it."

There's something in his voice that breaks Alaska. His eyes are bombarded with tears left unshed, so she sheds them for him, removing her aching body from her seat in order to wrap her love around him. She hopes he feels it- the forgiveness, comfort, and tender affection.  
When his hands come up to gently wrap around her, she loses her strength. One of his arms move up, the other down so they can support her weight without adding pressure to bandages around her middle. Reid's hot breath tickles her cheek for a split second before he presses dozens of slow, tantalizing kisses down her jaw and neck. She revels in every touch he gives her.

"I love you, Alaska."

The statement should not be said after knowing someone for just one week. But what they went through and feel for each other seems to out-value a lifetime.

"I love you too, Spencer."

CMCMCM

Spencer forced himself away from his damsel in distress after a while, the aroma around them practically begging for attention. Alaska agreed to go wait on the couch for him and his face flushes with memories of the first time he'd been seated on the couch. That night had also been the first time that they'd expressed their appeal for one another.

He lets the memory unwind in his mind fully as he swallows down a pain pill for his aching wrist and dishes out the noodles in egg shell blue bowls. By the time he gets to his awaiting lady, his eyes are wide with a deep lust and his body is thrumming with passion. Sitting in close proximity of her as they eat in a comfortable silence does nothing to lesson his inner whirlwind.

Alaska finishes off her bowl of pasta and sets it down on the floor near her feet. When she looks up at him, he's surprised to find how exhilarated she looks.

"Kiss me." She says.

That's all it takes for Spencer to lose control of himself and the final grip he has on his sanity. He lets himself get lost in the planes of this beautiful girl's body and her sinfully vulnerable lips.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

"Hotchner." Aaron answers, doing his best to keep his weariness out of his voice. The digital clock on the dresser across the room says it's nearly four in the morning.

"Hotch." The weak voice on the other end says. The man instantly sits up and his brain kicks into gear. Over the past three months, these types of calls had come at least five times. Aaron had desperately hoped the fifth call would've been the last.

"Reid, everything's okay. You know that."

"It's not okay. I've been up all night trying to keep myself from calling around for it. I know exactly where I can- but I know I can't just do that." The tears in the young genius's voice are trying to be masked, but Hotch can still hear the slight tremor that signals their presence.

"Why didn't you wake up Alaska and talk to her?" Hotch tries to say it as low key as he can, praying that his friend and subordinate doesn't take it the wrong way.

"She feels the cravings too. But she had the strength to just quit after the hospital. I couldn't quit after Tobias, and I barely stopped myself to retorting to that after Maeve- I-"

"Spencer, listen to me. Somewhere in that brain of yours you know how hard quitting is. If it was easy, drugs wouldn't be a problem, would they? You've been clean for four months now-"

A small whimper cuts Hotch's words off.

"You have been clean for four months now, haven't you?" The irritation that's flooding Aaron manages to seep into his words as well. When the phone call ends with a small click, he has his answer.

CMCMCM

"Stupid, stupid, stupid." Spencer chants, pacing the living room. The phone lays tossed aside on the couch and he's shaking like mad. He should've listened to what his boss had to say, and kept his secret to himself.

But telling Hotch, as indirectly as it was, felt good. A weight was lifted, even if it was just a small one. At the same time, the gap the weight left was enough room for guilt and disappointment to slither in.

Dilaudid has him under lock and key now. His chances of quitting after relapsing- not once, not twice, but three times- is practically non existent.

"I'm going to lose my job." Spencer mumbles to himself, "Then I'm going to lose Alaska. Then the rest of them." A fresh wave of tears roll over the pacing agent, the reminder of what he has to lose is too great to withstand.

In the past four months, his life has crumbled. He and Alaska became nothing but sex, silence, and little tenderness though she'd allowed him to move in permanently. It was like living with a constant reminder of how big he's screwed up. After being allowed back on the job, his friends' actions caused his downwards spiral to speed up. They debated their every word when around him; no longer the carelessly wonderful people he'd known for so long. The cravings had hit him hard, and so he'd start calling Hotch, and sometimes Morgan, when he needed reassurance, all the while praying Alaska would forgive him someday for not trusting her enough for this certain topic of discussion. The last straw had occurred just two weeks prior to this very night- when he received a call from his mother's doctor. After the kind gentlemen dropped the bomb of his mother's declining health, Spencer hung up and promptly made a call to a number he'd never forget in all his lifetime.  
Reid had been stretching the two vials over the course of the past two weeks, and it's been just six hours since his last dose. The empty bottles sit on the coffee table, teasing him.

Why the Hell did he tell Hotch?

Friends or not, he'll always be his boss first, friend secondly.

The weight of what's really at stake just about chokes Spencer- his legs give out and he falls to the floor. He bites back his sobs, mindful of his sleeping girlfriend just down the hall. The images of her laying on that table in the sanatorium, in pools of her own blood, screams ringing in the room flash before him. Then come the images of her bruised skin and scars that litter her body. Those have been burned into his soul along with the death in her eyes.

"What have I done?" Reid cries. He can't stop shaking and it feels like his being is nothing but guilt, grief, and hopelessness. He crawls to the couch and reaches for the phone, dialing the number he knows he'll never forget.

"Sup, Fed?"

Spencer can imagine the little smirk on the man's face.

"I need some, now."

"You're not sounding so good, Fed. Need me to meet you at your block? All I have at the moment is the shit you don't like, though."

"That's fine." Spencer breathes. "How soon?" He figures the hard-core heroin is better than nothing.

"Give me half an hour."

"I can't wait that long."

"You're gunna have to."

The conversation ends there and Spencer tosses the phone back to the couch. His breathing slows down a smidge, his body starting to thrum with adrenaline. It's all he needs. The heroine is all he needs. Screw the FBI. Screw paying for a Bennington- his mom's dying anyway. And screw Alaska- she can find some other guy to fool around with every night.

He waits until twenty minutes passes by, counting the seconds carefully so he doesn't mess up. Spencer figures the walk down the block will take him ten minutes, sure to pick up his wallet and clean syringe on his way out. Reid has learned to always carry around an extra fifty bucks for emergencies like this and hide syringes behind the books on the top shelf of Alaska's book case. It's where she can't reach herself or see anything suspicious.

As he walks down the block, his eyes search everywhere for his dealer. When they finally find him, standing with his back against the corner of an apartment building, smoking a cigarette, Spencer speeds up a little. His release is so close.

"Hey, Fed." The short man grins. "You know the rules- cash first."

Spencer does know the rules, so he reluctantly reaches for his wallet. People passing by pay no attention to the quick exchange of cash for the vial.

"See you in a week." The dealer chuckles, heading off with a salute. Reid has always despised the man's sense of humor, but at the same time, it made dealing with him more enjoyable. Spencer had nothing to fear of this small man with a never ending supply of laughter and jokes.  
"Reid!" A voice calls. Spencer turns and finds his boss just down the street, hurrying towards him. The possibilities of what his boss wants crosses his brain and he bolts. He cannot get caught with a vial of heroine, nor can he face the fact that his boss may have just watched him meet his dealer on his way over to fire him.

He runs and runs, taking turns down alleys and shortcuts through people's yards to escape the agent behind him. Spencer wonders where he's running to, but his feet must've figured it out before his brain because when he sees the familiar building around the corner, he runs behinds the line of buildings to get there and runs in the back door without a second thought.

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Hotch doesn't like having to do this, but when he realizes chasing down his subordinate is his only option, he pulls out his gun from it's holster and yells for people to get out of his way. He carefully searches the alleys his friend runs down, his flashlight balanced under his gun. The only thing that tells him that he hasn't lost the trail is the frantic sounds of labored breathing and the sound of feet hitting pavement at a quick pace.

Aaron follows carefully, keeping a small distance between himself and Spencer until the genius takes a quick left and seems to disappear. Numerous buildings surround Hotchner, and he knows it'll take hours to search them all. His mind makes itself up to call Morgan when it considers that Spencer was frantic, just bought drugs, and ran from his boss, friend, and fellow federal agent. His cell phone flashes with a "No Signal" sign though, and he's left to do this on his own, no time to waste.

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Spencer sits in the room, looking around at what has changed since he last appeared here. The caution tape around the crime scene has been torn down, but no one bothered to scrub at the blood staining the apartment floor. Flashbacks of that night have always haunted him, yet he feels somewhat safe being here. Maybe Maeve's final breath took away the darkness the four walls of the room had seen.

Reid had visited this very room just two times after the psycho killed the love of his life. He hadn't bothered telling anyone, knowing that revisiting the site of trauma is unhealthy. Now, with so much time having past, he still feels the eerie sense of safety in here. Maybe it was because he became acceptant of his own death here. He was serious when he said he'd die for Maeve, and Reid spent countless nights wishing he'd have just died right then when Diane pulled the trigger. Both times he went home after leaving this place, he felt so wrong. It was as if he was leaving her.

He sets out his vial and syringe, realizing he could fix things. Maeve died because of him, and now he has everything he needs to keep himself from leaving her once more.

"For Thomas Merton." Spencer says aloud in a joking tone, filling the syringe. He takes the belt from around his waist and fastens it around his arm. The motions are soothingly familiar. His shaking hand suddenly becomes steady in anticipation of the sweet poison.

He drops the syringe when it's empty, a smile ghosting over his face as his heavily lidded eyes lock on the blood stained floor. He repeats, "For Thomas Merton."


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

When Dr. Spencer Reid opens his eyes after what feels similarly close to being in a train wreck, he groans. He doesn't bother opening his eyes, he just takes a minute to feel. His mind is blissfully clear, probably due to the IV pumping him with sedatives. Reid's mind flips through his memories until he regains the events of the prior night, and what he finds isn't something he wants to remember. The fatigue he's feeling is from getting his blood detoxed from the drugs, but the agony that feels him is all because of his own doing. The heat he feels from his left side must be coming from another body, and he sure as hell doesn't want the conversation he knows is coming.

"Reid, I know you're awake." Hotch's gruff voice says. It's tone is demanding and laced thoroughly with anger.

When Spencer's hazel eyes open and glance at his boss, he regrets it. Never before had Spencer seen the man so mad before, let alone at _him_.

"Explain this to me, Spencer. Because I don't get it."

"If that's why you came, just leave." Reid responds, voice trembling and eyes adverting down. The room around them is so dark that he feels suffocated. The blinds are drawn shut and one side of the room's lights are off. This was clearly a room meant for three patients, not one.

_Suicidal FBI agents must get special treatment._

"I had to chase you down because you ran away. You got drugs and decided to take the easy way out of your problems-" Aaron says, voice raising as his words progress.

"Shut up!" Reid snaps. "I did not ask you to save me. You made that decision. Now you can regret it."

Hotch gets up from the chair, sending it flying backwards violently. His hands grip the bed's railing and his eyes burn into his subordinates with deeply rooted hurt and anger. Reid's body immediately recoils from the closeness, half waiting for a hard punch to come next. This is the first time his boss has ever scared him so much.

"The only thing I regret is letting you into the FBI, Spencer."

With that, he's gone and Reid's left shaking and alone, eventually crying himself to sleep.

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The next time his mind swims into consciousness, he instantly knows where he is, and he regrets knowing. Spencer can feel the tear stains on his face and the ache of his heart that screams that Hotch should've stopped searching for him. He should've let him die. Reid is alive though he wishes he weren't.

A few more tears leak out despite his best efforts. When a voice next to him speaks, Reid nearly jumps out of the bed, having thought the room was vacant.

"Hey there." Morgan's deep voice says. It's watered down from it's usual intensity. Now, it's out of place- sad, flat, and lost.  
Spencer scrubs his tears away, bringing his knees to his chest and wrapping up in the hospital sheets tighter. The windows' blinds have been opened and rays of light shine down on the man beside him.

Reid's expecting the same treatment that he got with Hotch- loud anger and hurtful words, but that doesn't seem to be the case here; Derek just reaches out to pat his friend's arm and swallow hard.

Reid never knew silence could hurt so much.

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Aaron Hotchner paces in his hallway a few more times before walking to his son's bedroom door and peaking in, having finally decided not to wake the child up, but check in nonetheless.

Just the sight of Jack is enough to force Hotch's anger back into his veins. He hates that his son must exist in such a horribly cruel world. His mind looks back to recent events that spark this fury-

_Hotch realizes where Spencer must be as soon as he stands outside the building's door. Of course this is where he'd go- it's where he lost so much. His mind's profile of his subordinate scream for him to hurry, but surely his Reid wouldn't do such a thing- _

_But when he gets to the room, and sees the body sprawled out on the floor, he knows that his friend did it. He actually did it. When Aaron leans down and finds a glimmer of hope- also known as a weak pulse- he races down to the street to find a phone signal to call an ambulance. The wait in between the call and the ambulance's arrival was torturous, but finally, they came. The two paramedics loaded him inside. When offered to ride along, Aaron refused, knowing he had somewhere else to be and offer answers that he didn't have._

_He walked the whole way to Dr. Michaels' house, feeling numb and sick. Reid could be dead by now, and he has no idea. Just when he starts regretting he decision of not riding to the hospital, he forces himself to think of Alaska. He can't just let her wake up to find her partner gone and be completely clueless. It's just not the fair thing to let happen. _

_Aaron knocks and waits for the door to open, staring at his feet. Never before has Agent Hotchner felt so small or anxious. _  
_"Agent?" Alaska says, eyebrows furrowed when she pulls back the door. She's dressed in one of Spencer's shirts and shorts. The combination scream of such vulnerability. It all makes this so much harder to say. _

_"R- Spencer. He… Did you know he was using again?" _

_He scolds himself as soon as the words are out of his mouth. Questioning her like a criminal while standing on her porch at such wee hours in the morning is not protocol. _

_"Wh- no." Her eyes are widening and the air has seemed to turn stale. "Where is he right now?" _

_"May I come in, Dr. Michaels?"_

_She widens the door and walks backwards to make room for him wordlessly. When the door is shut behind him, he looks her in the eye and swallows hard before spitting it out. _

_"I found him in a building. He overdosed. He's at the hospital; I don't know if he'll make it." _

_Her body freezes before Aaron physically sees the air rush from her lungs and her hands fly down to her stomach. _

_"No." She says, voice just barely a whisper. _

_Hotch's eyebrows raise, having profiled her reaction by habit. "Alaska- are you- pregnant?"_

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Not long after Morgan left, Reid sighs when he sees Rossi walking in the room. The man's posture is calm and nonchalant, as if this is all just a conversation at the office. An everyday thing.

"The girls are all out in the waiting room. They haven't been able to think of a thing to say, so they've avoided coming in." Rossi tells him.

"You should all go home."

"I couldn't think of a thing to say either," He continues, as if Spencer never spoke, "but I needed you to know everyone was here."

"Well, thanks."

This time, Reid gets a nod of acknowledgment from the senior profiler before he continues with the one-sided conversation.

"I had to wonder, a million times minimum, why someone with your life would pull this kind of a stunt... I mean, you're an FBI agent. Every means of help available, yet you ignored all of them. Surely there must be a reason."

If an answer was expected, he doesn't get one this time. Reid's eyes have locked on the room's tinted blue wallpaper.

"I realize you must've felt denial. You didn't think things were that bad until repressing your feelings backfired and you acted on impulse." Rossi pauses for a minute before continuing, "At least, that's what I'm hoping happened. If this was some thought out plan that Hotch happened to stumble on…- I'm not sure I could live with that guilt. I've worked with you for six years now. I've been a profile for way more years than I can wrap my head around. Yet, I still didn't pick up on my coworker and friend's pain.-"

"Out." Spencer breathes, heart too overwhelmed to hear another word.

"I kept wondering then if-"

"OUT." This time, it's a shout that sends nurses rushing in, which confirms to Spencer's curious mind that he's very close to a nurse's desk.

"Sir, we need you to leave." One small woman tells Rossi as two others comment on Reid's elevated pulse and lowered oxygen levels.

His eyes are latched onto Reid's, who feels their intensity but still doesn't look up. When he finally leaves and the nurses are reassured that their patient is fine, Spencer gives them a small request.

"Can you guys keep visitors out? I want to be alone for now."

They eagerly agree, which tells Spencer that they know of his FBI status. Maybe the whole world doesn't know- but his reputation has surely been tainted in Reid's eyes. He tries to shrug that sting off.

_It wasn't much of a reputation to begin with anyway._


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Alaska watches the unit chief pace in front of her, the morning light pouring in from the window and seemingly burning the side of her face. He'd promise the night prior to pay her a visit and he'd kept that promise, evidently. She'd been somewhat reluctant to let him back in her house.

Never had Aaron Hotchner been anything less than kind to her, but something about the man irked her beyond belief. Maybe it was the fashion in which he carried himself- with that pride of authority. Or maybe it's the way his aged face reminds her of her father- a true symbol of resentment in her life. Nonetheless, him being the beholder of her secret and now pacing her living room is two very displeasing things to wake up to in the mornings.

"Are you going to visit him yet? He's being weaned off the non-narcotic sedatives."

The gentlemen's voice is so different than Spencer's usual meekness that Alaska almost flinches. How she pities him for working with such an alpha male.

"No."

"Alaska- I need to know for his wellbeing what your plan of action will be."

"Plan of action?"

"He lives here right now. This incident happened because he's unhappy with how his life is at the moment. I'm a profiler- I know something's wrong between you two. If you plan on kicking him out or hurting his peace of mind further, I need to know."

Those violent and uncaring words do rally a flinch from Alaska. Their implications speak louder than the obviously stated.

"So you think I'm the cause of what he did?"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to." Dr. Michaels says, voice close to a shout. She stands up, body tense and fingers curling at her side. "If you only came to ridicule me, I'm sorry; you've wasted your precious time, Agent."

"I won't be leaving without answers. My subordinate needs stability, and if you can't provide it for him, I will."

She barks out a bitter laugh. "Find stability in your own life, then get back to me."

Aaron feels his nerves twitch and his irritable mind take another toll of annoyance for this young woman. "Having an FBI agent attempt suicide isn't an everyday occurrence. Sorry for the disappointment."

"Why am I the one to blame here? I love him all that I can."

"What reservations are there?" The agent has snapped his mind back into profiler mode, calculating the phrasing and tone of her last statement. Her silence urges on his next question that he's been saving. "Do you plan on keeping the baby?"

When Alaska's face twists into agony, the profiler's insides twist.

"Get out of my house! I am not a witness in some crime, and he is not someone to scrutinize! Spencer is a goddamn human being, and so am I!"

Aaron Hotchner leaves without a glance back, his heart heavier then when he arrived.

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Emily Prentiss doesn't know how to cope, for what could possibly be the first time ever. She can compartmentalize because this situation is too close to the heart. She's not the type to trust anyone easily, but Reid had been one of the purely good souls that she let past her guard without a second thought.

After both Rossi and Morgan returned to the waiting room after their visits, neither seemed less upset. In fact, both men seemed more out of place. More haunted. And when a nurse had come out and informed them all they had to leave because Spencer doesn't want anymore visitors, Prentiss watched tears fall from JJ's face and Rossi hang his head. It actually felt like right then and there that Spencer had died.

Now, just hours later, Emily stands outside Reid's hospital room's door, eyeing the nurses' desk with anxiety pounding through her bloodstream. None of them seemed to have recognized her yet, probably due to her drastic change in wardrobe and overall appearance. Hair in a bun and sweats draped on her figure, Emily hardly feels human. The makeup has been all wiped off and her red rimmed eyes further prove her uncharacteristic vulnerability.

With a deep breath, she opens the door and slips into his room, unnoticed.

His body seems to be in a state of paralysis, limbs stiff and face tense in his sleep. It's a pity to wake him, so Emily takes her time to remove her coat, take a seat, and settle back into it's cushion. The chair gives a small creak, which has Reid's eyes flying open.

"Everything's okay, Reid. It's just me." She says without a second thought.

His eyes flicker to her, and everything is not, in anyway okay.

"What time is it?"

"Six in the morning."

"If you're here to yell at me, don't bother. Hotch did an extraordinary job of that."

"He yelled?"

Spencer nods, and there's a glimmer of deep discomfort that flashes over his features that tell Emily yelling really isn't necessary. But is that what she came for? To blame him? She isn't sure. She just knew she had to be in this seat next to him today.

"I didn't come for that."

"Then…"

"I came because you're one of my best friends and I love you."

"You know I love you too, Emily." He states, voice small, fingers twisting themselves in the bed sheets.

"What did Hotch say?" She asks. It was meant as a purely innocent, filler question, but when he bites the inside of his cheek, she knows she struck a nerve. "Tell me, Reid. Not saying what's bothering you got you here in the first place, right?"

"He said he regrets letting me into the FBI."

Emily's mouth pops into a little 'o' of surprise. Of all the things her mind scrounged up, the had not been on the list of possibilities. "Why would he-…"

Spencer shrugs and a few tears fall from his eyes, which Emily doesn't comment on because she knows how he'd hate that. "Where's Alaska?"

"I don't know." Prentiss says, choosing the truth would hurt him less in the end.

"She didn't come at all?"

Emily doesn't answer, just stares down at her flip flops. They're all black with little neon purple stars everywhere. Garcia had bought them for her, more as a joke than anything else, but she fell in love with them, embarrassingly enough.

"Look at you,… you're so… under dressed." Reid comments.

"Says you." Prentiss snickers, eyeing up his thin hospital gown.

Silence consumes them for a few minutes, but it's nothing uncomfortable. In fact, just sitting and knowing he's okay is beyond fine with her.

When Spencer speaks once more, Emily cringes at his words.

"Do you think I'll be kicked out of the FBI?"

"I hope not."

"Em?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry." He whispers, one bony hand reaching out to grasp hers.

"No, Reid, I'm sorry."

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The next visitor he gets comes roughly around ten a.m., not long after he convinced Emily to leave. Unsurprisingly, it's JJ. She has a grim expression on her face that tells Reid he's in big trouble.

"Hi, Jayje."

"Don't 'hi Jayje' me."

"Look, I'm sor-"

"No. I told you about my sister's death with total trust that you'd never hurt me the way she did. I told you how long it took for me to make peace with what happened- nearly fifteen years. Were you just going to take away another fifteen or more years from me?" She's pacing the room, hands moving in wild gestures and purposely avoiding eye contact. The red tinge to her face speaks in volumes of what her words can't.

"You know I'd never purposely hurt you."

"I thought I knew that. But when I got that horrible call from Hotch…I wasn't so sure anymore, Reid, so you bet your ass that you've got some major explaining to do." The blonde cuts off her rampage, her tears cascading down her face in waterfalls.

"I…just couldn't…anymore."

"Tell me, Spence. Every freaking word of it so I can fix it already." JJ begs, a trembling hand brushing back the blonde tresses.

"You can't fix it JJ. Not everything's fixable."

"I can try."

His silence prompts her further. "Spencer, what's the problem you wanted so badly to escape? The cases? Living with Alaska? Missing Maeve? Please-"

"Me." Spencer sighs, leaning back against his pillows until his back aches with the effort of moving after so long of immobility.

"What-"

"Me. That's the problem."

So suddenly that they both jumped, the hospital room's door bangs open. A plump nurse walks in, a tray in hand, covered over with a cloth to conceal it's items. A file is tucked up under her arm, and Spencer infers it's his. What he'd do to get a glance-

"Oh!" She claims when she notices JJ. The woman sets the tray down on the dresser that's built into the opposite wall and checks the file. "Dr. Reid here has requested we keep visitor's out. I'm sorry ma'am…"

"Spence," JJ starts, turning to look at her fragile friend. He bites his lip in contemplation before shaking his head, mumbling a small apology. Louder, he speaks so the nurse can hear.

"Sorry, Jayje, you should get going."

The blonde leaves with a loud sigh of reluctance, sending the nurse a heated glare when her back is turned. Spencer is sure the same glare is given to him as he stares down at his bony hands. He attempts distracting himself by reciting the titles and quotes from his favorite books. The next time he looks back up, the nurse is studying his IV bag. The cover was removed from the tray and the syringe lays there, a clear liquid shining in the room's lights. He watches grimly, devising a plan to get into the file she's carelessly laid on the foot of his bed.  
As she turns her back to him to administer the mysterious contents on the tray, Reid picks up the cup from the little desk beside him and tosses it into the mini trash bin beside his bed. That being done, he sucks in a deep breath and starts coughing like mad. When the woman turns back to him in a panic, he finds that her metal name tag reads _Jae_.

"Jae," Spencer gasps, acting the part, "I need…water-"

She searches blindly for his cup, and when her search comes up empty, she rushes from the room as he had hoped. He leans down- which proves to be difficult with his stiff limbs- and snatches up the file. In just a matter of a minute, he has the whole thing lodged in his memory and it's back in its original spot. Reid starts gasping once more when Jae comes back, a big cup overfilled with cold water in hand. He downs half of it and smiles his gratitude at the woman.

Reid waits until she's gone, empty syringe, tray, and file in hand before he reviews what he read. Someone, presumably Hotch, told the medics he had been drugged. He's in a special unit of the hospital because they were told he was attacked and potentially in danger.

Spencer's face flushes deep red as embarrassment rushes through him. If Hotch ratted him out, at least it'd be easier to deal with than lying for his sorry self.

Drowsiness starts to kick in, which reminds him of the last thing he read on the paper- they're keeping him sedated with non-narcotic sleep aids. It was "requested" to keep him from worrying over the attack.

Spencer curses in his mind, blindly reaching down as blackness incases his vision. He closes the useless assets then begins feeling the smooth tape over his hand. Slowly and carefully, he feels up the tape until he finds the small tube to his IV. Tracing it's smooth surface, he quickly finds the medical clip that stops the flow of liquids to his blood stream and snaps the clip in place.

He can't take the amount already in his body out though, so Spencer drifts fully into the blackness like it's home.

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Aaron Hotchner had been sitting in Reid's hospital room for roughly half an hour before the hazel eyes opened and found their stability. It surprises the unit chief, who'd been told the last round of sedatives would last until that night.

"Spencer?" Hotch sighs to get the young man's attention.

"Whaaa?" He moans, still under the drugs' spell.

"We need to talk."

The seriousness that Hotch knows all to well finds it's place on the genius's face and he shakes his head like a defiant child.

"No, we don't."

"I say when we do and don't need to-"

"Just stop; you can fire me later." The rolling of the eyes that accompanies the slurred words almost bring a smile to the older man's eyes. It's such a childish thing to do that he knows Reid would be mortified of his own actions.

"I'm not going to fire you, Reid."

"You may as well. You said it yourself- I don't belong in the FBI."

Aaron's heart swells with conflict. He had meant all that he'd said earlier, but they sure aren't words you should admit to. "Look, what I really meant was that you could've done better with your life than the FBI. I feel like this is my fault for bringing you into this world of horror stories and psychopaths."

Spencer snorts. "I couldn't do any better."

Aaron isn't sure if the comment was for or against his statement, so he just continues with his lecture. "I'm not sure you understand why this hurts so much."

Reid takes a long look at his boss, noticing for the first time that in the afternoon light, he looks aged so many years. His face is deepened by worry lines that may never fade away and his eyes burn with experience. The always present 'Unit Chief Style,' as Garcia would call it, is crumpled. His tie is loose around his neck and the sleeves are rolled halfway up his arms, the trademark suit jacket carelessly thrown around the back of the chair.

"In every relationship, there's trust. No matter what it is- between friends, coworkers, lovers, or family- it's all just trust. It's also a promise that you'd do nothing to hurt them in exchange for their acceptance and approval. All of us gave you that acceptance and approval because we trust you, Reid. Everyone's so hurt because you broke that trust, doing what you did. We're all supposed to be your safety net, your family, and you choose to go to those old resources. We know you're hurting; that's expected after all you've been through."

Spencer breathes a deep sigh at his boss's words. "It had nothing to do with you guys. Not really."

"You were willing to leave us with no answers and broken hearted just so you could be at peace, Spencer. It had everything to do with us. You had no idea what the loss would do, or you wouldn't have even debated it. It'd be like when we thought we lost Emily, but times five."

"Why times five?" Spencer asks, trying to distract the room's tension if only for a moment.

"For one, it'd be real. Two, we'd have no one to blame but ourselves. Three, it was unexpected. Four, we wouldn't know how to cope anymore without you, and five- because you're one link in the family we all strive to protect. Right above Penelope, that is."

His subordinate shifts around in his bed, uncomfortable with all the emotions in the room, especially coming from Hotch, the most typical alpha male he knows. They don't show these emotions if they don't mean them. It says so in the profile he built of his boss long ago. The older man leans forward, his elbows on his knees, a hand running over his aged features.

"I'm really sorry, Hotch."

"I'm not the one you need to be saying that to."


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

The daylight is passing by, one second at a time. In Dr. Michael's house, it seems that a demolition of sorts has occurred. The furniture has been thoroughly inspected, as well as each room in the artistic home. Alaska had no luck thus far, having checked nearly everywhere , including Spencer's belongings. In a rush of frustrated haste, she had resulted to throwing everything in his go-bag and old suitcases. Every pore in her body is screaming for her to end this madness, but that's what she had been trying to do in the first place. He had turned into a problem, and she cannot let the problem live with her.

Now, she leaves the suitcases and his belongings carelessly piled beside the door before going to pace the living room. The sight of her many overflowing bookcases reminds her of the thing she forgot about- his books. Tears gather at the vicious thought of how he probably loved them more than her, right along side his job. Which came first to her former boyfriend? Useless pages of text or a job that rips his soul to shreds?

It's just as she's pulling his copy of _Psychology 101_ from the top shelf that she finds what had started her mad rampage in the first place. She's finally found his stash. Three packaged syringes and two empty vials are all that's left, but it's proof of her love's betrayal.

Proof is something Alaska desperately craved since Agent Hotchner left just hours ago. The word 'drugs' belongs no where near this child she's bearing now, and some part had been telling her that she needed proof to come to terms with what she must do.

She had promised herself, in that goddamn elevator at the sanatorium, that she'd never make the same mistake of putting herself before her child twice. Holding onto Spencer would surround her baby with a shroud of danger. She has the choice to throw it all away.

Standing there, in front of the door with_ Psychology 101_ in hand, Alaska's carefully built barrier breaks and tears flow until she feels like she's drowning. She drops the book on top of the rest of his stuff, trying to swallow around the lump that has found it's way to her throat. Grimly enough, that lump seems to be her heart.

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He can no longer tell his messed up reality from dreams any more. His brain feels so much lighter that he has no other comparison than saying his brain is that of a child's. Oh, the irony- considering how Spencer isn't sure if he ever was a child with this cursedly brilliant brain.

"Surely if this were a delusion I'd be a bit earlier upon arriving." A small voice says from the doorway. He hadn't even realized his worries had been spoken aloud. Reid's heart races at the sight of her, as it always does. The dark web of hair that he's caressed so many times that he can practically feel right now and the petite silhouette that his heart has mapped out is something he breathes for. She's dressed in a button down flannel and her favorite jeans. He's memorized the rips and tears down them a long time ago.

"When you come doesn't matter, just as long as you do."

Alaska gives a small nod and steps closer, easing the door shut behind her. He can now see the red rims around her eyes and the sadness shining within them.

"I love you," Spencer says, "and I'm sorry."

Her eyes stare down at her hands as she takes the vacant chair near his bed and locks her fingers together. The worry lining her face and hitched breathing warn Spencer to prepare himself. But in circumstances such as these, he doesn't know how.

"We need to talk, Spence."

"I'm waiting." He sighs with a small nod. Her eyes flicker to them, then back down. He knows this can't be good.

"Are you going to really quit, Spencer?-"

"Yes-"

"For real this time; no hiding syringes and drugs on the bookcase, or sneaking out of bed at night, or spending ridiculous amounts of money on heroine?"

Spencer swallows, startled that she's figured it all out. And he's supposed to be the profiler. "Yes. I'm done with all that. I promise."

Her fingers unlock and her chin raises until his eyes are captured in hers. She's searching for something, and if Spencer knew what it was, he'd give it to her or say all the things she needs to hear.

"I don't believe you."

Those four words pack more of a punch than Reid has ever felt. It's worse than being shot or getting yelled at by his boss like a child would by his father- something that Spencer probably couldn't handle considering he never dealt with that situation before.

"I mean it. No more addiction, or secrets-"

"Don't make promises you can't keep." She smiles sadly. "I packed your stuff; have Rossi or Morgan get it for you. It'd make this easier."

"Make what easier?" Spencer asks, eyes starting to burn. The room has seemed to go from nervous to anguish in a matter of minutes. The air has been knocked from his lungs.

"We're over. It's for the best."

"The best of what?" Nothing is making sense in the genius's head. What he did was wrong and all types of stupid, but this drastic of measures still don't add up.

"It's the best decision for us both. We can both move forward now."

"I love you, Alaska. I don't want to move forward."

She bites her lips, eyes scanning his for something. When they don't find it, she stands up and leans over to kiss his forehead.

"I'm sorry."

That's all he gets before she walks out the door, shutting it behind her just as gently as she did when she came in.

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Alaska takes a deep breath and stares down at the phone in her hands. It's Spencer's, which had been left at the apartment before everything happened. She had all the intentions of putting it with the rest of his stuff, but for now it could come in handy. She presses the call button after scrolling through the contacts and waits in the driver's seat of her car.

"Reid?"

"It's just me, Agent Hotchner, sorry to disappoint. Listen, I need a favor from you, but I know I have no jurisdiction to ask for it."

"What would that be?"

"We both know his only hope of recovering is support, love, and no stress. So I'm leaving and not coming back."

"But, Alaska, the baby-"

"Exactly why I need your help," She sighs. "I need you to keep it between us."


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

The line goes dead, signaling Agent Hotchner's absence in the conversation. It hopefully also signifies his cooperation, but with men like him, Alaska can never be sure. Her mind goes way back to a time she'd always remember though it wasn't through choice.

_Alaska was just twelve when her father died. _

_She stood at his funeral, her mother's hand in hers as they sit in the very front row as the preacher gave the sermon on how to live life. She remembers trying not to snicker at how her father didn't live by the Bible, but because these people needed support, they made it so. Everyone in the room were employees, bosses, old high school friends, and distant family- most of which, she'd never even met. _

_Mother soaks it all in, though. She says she appreciates everyone being here for the burial of such a good man. Alaska cannot grasp the concept. It was as if she forgave her father for all he did to us just for an action he didn't control. _

_Didn't she care about the bruises littering her body? Surely they'll fade, but what they stand for never will. They're scars in a way; each and every one will never leave her completely healed. The man she loved, trusted, and honored left his last years of life abusing rather than loving. His untimely death was her only escape, and she took it as his ultimate apology. _

_"Let's put the roses on the casket." Mother whispers to her. All the attention is on the two because of the preacher's unheard request. Alaska stands, takes one look at the closed casket just feet before her, and sits back down._

_"C'mon," Mother snaps. Alaska know she doesn't mean to, it's just stress talking, but that harsh tone brought back all of what her father was. _

_"I feel sick. Here." She practically throw the rose at her mother and crumbles, bringing her knees to her chest, and wrapping long, lanky arms under to support the flimsy dress. Not very lady-like, as she's sure she'll get lectured on later, but Alaska doesn't care. Her mother does as she said, so maybe the older women didn't really care either. _  
_I solicit a small prayer, begging for my father to get the worst places in the corners of heaven if not of hell. Everyone around me is surrendering their roses to the casket. Anyone who looks at me probably thinks I'm crying out of love for him. _

_When her mother sits back down, sniffling, she take a glance at her red rimmed eyes and wishes to find the power in her heart to miss him._

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Alaska finds a familiar vehicle in the drive way, and it just about turns her sick. Aaron Hotchner is sitting on the porch steps, and under-dressed when compared to his usual suit and tie. Today it's a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, complete with a red flannel. She can't believe how human he looks. Her nerves almost relax, but then he speaks- his voice demanding and harsh.

"We need to talk this over."

"There's nothing to talk about, none of this is your decision to make." The female answers, breezing past him to the door to unlock it. She almost shuts the door in his face, but he wedges his foot in between the swinging oak and the door jam. He pushes it open to come in, then shuts it behind him as if he's been invited in. Alaska glares at him.

"So you're just going to run away again?"

"You-"

"Because running away last time didn't get you very far. It killed a man and left a child to be regretted. Are you sure this won't have the exact same outcome?"

"I'm not the reason he killed himself." She says. Neither believe a word of the excuse. Dr. Michaels fights back for no other reason than to keep this alpha male from winning a battle he isn't part of.

"Maybe. But you will be if history repeats itself, Alaska. He already attempted it, and having no family on top of his other options will push him to succeed next time."

"I don't have to be there when he does, and neither does my baby."

"Why are you fighting him so hard when he can't fight back? You know he'd give into your every demand because he loves you, and you're just disregarding the fact. This can't just be about Spencer. It's your fear of commitment, and I'm guessing your father issues."

"Don't you dare profile me!" She shouts. Alaska points him to the door, but he doesn't budge, still remaining in the entryway, the room's natural lighting allowing me to see the way his eyes are calculating her every word.

"So what are you afraid of? Spencer being the same kind of father yours was? Or that he'll disappoint you both? Are you afraid you'll end up like your mother, or your child will end up as you?"

She stays silent this time, trying but failing to blink back all the tears gathering before they escape.

"He's not your father. You're not your mother, and this child could have the most wonderful life if you'd let everything happen as it should. Spencer needs you right now and you can't just run away for your own selfish reasons."

The tenderness in his voice shows something that she hadn't seen from him before- a side of care. Yes, being an FBI agent required some of that, but Aaron Hotchner is one to conceal it as best as possible. Showing this side to her makes her recall how she never saw it from her father. And how she always sees it from Spencer. This is what sets the circumstances apart.

As the tears and silence continues, the agent steps forward, pulling the petite, resistant body into a gentle hug.

"How'd you know-?" Alaska asks when she swallows back the tears and step back.

"I'm a very experienced profiler," he tells her, a rare grin forming before he finally turns and lets himself out. Alaska stare at the pile of Spencer's things just feet away and take a deep breath before putting them back where they belong.

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David Rossi rests back in his living room chair, the TV in front of him but remaining off. The glass of scotch in his hand gives a lovely sense of comfort. The house around him is as spacious as always, but the difference tonight is that he isn't alone. Morgan takes a seat on the couch diagonal from his coworker's spot, sipping at his own glass.

"How's life treating you, Derek?"

"Not as nice as I'd wish." He says. He looks around at the expensive antique décor in the Italian man's house and snorts. "Not as nice as this."

"You don't need a life like mine. No one does." The older man laughs, shooting back a gulp of his scotch. He puts his attention on his drink to keep it from wondering elsewhere. Morgan's trying to do the same, but his curiosity eventually wins.

"What are we going to do, man?"

"I don't know."

"How do we take away all his pain when he never talks about it? Are the facts and statistics his distraction to it all?"

"You should run that by Aaron." Rossi shrugs.

"Aren't you worried about all this?" Derek says, temper rising.

"Of course I am- I just can't handle the misery worrying does. None of us can control how he copes, and we never will be. If he needs help, he needs to get it for himself, not for anyone else or it'll all be in vain."

Morgan drink while it soaks in. Rossi reaches for the TV remote and turns it on. Morgan watches with mild interest at the show Rossi rests on.

Here they are, two men drinking and watching TV. Desperately trying to forget how they've failed their friend and remember that they've been granted a second chance.

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Spencer Reid doesn't fight the next round of sedatives. They're weaning him off them now, and it's not as much as usual, but it's still something to dull the pain. Maybe he'd take a leaf from Strauss's book and give liquor a try after the worst of this is over.

A knock comes at the door and the nurse tries to explain that he'll be sleeping in a few minutes, but the visitor pays no mind to her and walks in. Spencer swallows hard, debating whether or not he should just stay mute rather than beg her to stay. He knows how bad he's screwed her life up in the process, and no words can say how deeply sorry he is. If she has chosen to leave, he won't try and stop her. He couldn't manage to give her a reason to stay other than how much he loves her.

"Spencer, I'm sorry." She begins, voice trembling much like her clasped hands. Her hair has been tied back and she looks nothing short of a mess.

He has so many questions to ask on the intentions of her words, but the sedatives are pulling at him. Instead, he holds his arms open and she hurries to fall into them. It's just like their last visit to the hospital, but now it's his bed they share. He kisses her hair, wanting her trembling and tears to stop and for her to just smile for him. He must've spoken aloud because she does eventually.

"Spence, I love you."

"I love you too, always."

"I have to tell you something that won't be easy."

Reid could feel her uneven breaths racking from her chest as she spoke. "Just tell me."

"I'm pregnant."


End file.
